


Performing One's Purpose

by Reiya_Wakayama



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff, Gay Sex, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mild Language, Minor Character Death, Minor Violence, Romance, Sacrifice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-19
Updated: 2011-08-19
Packaged: 2017-10-22 20:31:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 41,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/242286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reiya_Wakayama/pseuds/Reiya_Wakayama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The performance of one’s duty and one’s purpose usually mean the same thing to people, but some soon learn the fine line that separates these two concepts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> So here is my Merlin Big Bang. I wasn’t expecting it to have so much angst and sadness at the end, though I did allow myself a happy ending. I love happy endings, and was unwilling to settle for anything less in this story. I originally started this from a song and it wasn’t until nearly about halfway through that I remembered what song or songs in this case. My muse was…well Muse. To be exact, the Exogenesis Symphony Parts 1, 2 and 3. Besides one other story, this is one of the longest Merlin fics I’ve written and I am really proud of myself for getting this done since when I first came up with the idea, it would have taken me much longer to finish it if I ever did.  
> I wish to give the biggest thanks to my beta ca_te for their wonderful and epically awesome help in getting this fic into fighting shape. I know there were many mistakes that I’m sure I would have missed and they were so patient with my work and helped move this story along to make it the best it could be.  
> Also, major brownie points to my artist partner in crime, chrunchy_crunck whose lovely art can be found here [Artist Master Post](http://chrunchy-crunck.livejournal.com/6526.html#cutid1 ). The work is truly awesome and I am honored for them to have done the first artwork ever done for any of my stories. It is amazing and they should be applauded.

[   
](http://pics.livejournal.com/reiya_wakayama/pic/0000c8a4/)

**  
_  
Prologue   
_   
**

The black clouds boiled as the storm readied to burst, its grumbles audible from miles around. The clouds blocked out the lowering sun, dimming the light and turning the world murky. No one saw the black-cloaked figure riding hell-bent on some destination, any who might have seen his path were too wary to brave the encroaching storm.

Lightening forked across the sky, releasing a blinding flash of light before it faded back into gloom. The rider slowed his mount, the poor exhausted creature lurching as more lightning struck, but too tired to try and run to seek cover.

Running a soothing hand over its sweat-slickened coat, the rider started to lead it up the path, heading up and into the mountains they had come to. The winds whistled loudly through the weathered rock, tugging at his cloak and hood, threatening to snatch it away and leave him exposed to the elements.

As the last of the natural light began to fade and the gloom started to darken even more, they came to a level ledge, the mouth of a large cave opening onto it. He led the beast into it, quickly taking off its gear and rubbing it down. Outside, the clouds finally reached their breaking point, releasing their burden onto the world below, quickly drenching anything caught without shelter.

Pulling back his hood with an impatient hand, Balinor bent to pick up a torch from a pile in the back of the cave. A quick word and it sparked into life, the oil-soaked cloth catching easily. Holding it high, he walked forward, gait confident as he approached the back wall…and walked through the stone, a mere illusion to ward unwanted people off.

The passage behind the mirage was tall and narrow, damp and darkness pressing from all around. Torch raised, he made his way in and down, towards the heart of the mountain.

He knew he was close to his destination when his torch began flickering from an upward draft. Two more turns and the passage opened back up into a wide ledge of stone. Outward and above, the vast space of the cave tried to press down on him and crush him with its overwhelming silence. Ignoring it, he set the torch in a carved stone bracket.

“Dragon!” his voice echoed and rebounded, repeating again and again until the last echoes faded back into silence again. The silence was soon shattered again as something large pressed down against the air, forcing it down with each powerful wing stroke, raising a wind in the formally still cavern.

Balinor stared up at the great beast of magic. No matter how many times he visited, how much time he spent with him, Kilgharrah still awed him like nothing else, making him feel small and powerful at the same time, with his ability to speak to and control this magnificent being. But their time together wasn’t meant to last much longer.

“What news, Dragonlord?” Kilgharrah’s voice boomed in the silence, echoing off the walls of stone that encased them.

“It was as predicted. Uther made a pact with Nimueh for an heir. Ygraine will die in childbirth in a week’s time.” He felt weighed down with this knowledge, that he could have stopped everything, if he had just spoken up, but destiny had already made itself clear. In order for the future to continue, Ygraine must die.

“Ahh, then the Seer was right.” The Dragon’s demeanor changed, seeming to droop under a heavy burden. “This price for an uncertain future seems to be too much.”

“I am sorry. There was nothing I can do.”

“It was not your fault, my friend. We all have our time, even I. We must prepare for the future. The Seer said that Uther’s son was the one who would bring about the golden age, but the future can be changed so easily. We must create a failsafe so that it will happen.”

“You can’t mean…”

“Yes, Dragonlord, it is time. We have a week until the end of these peaceful times. There is no more time to be indecisive. We must act now.” He knew Kilgharrah was right. It was too late to stop this. They could only prepare for the hopeful future.

He nodded. “You are right. Tell me what I must do.”

~*~

 

 _Duty… I’ve long since come to understand what this word means through many examples. The duty of a prince to his people, to his kingdom, to his allies, to his king, and most importantly, to his father. I have my own duties. Those bestowed upon me by the king when he made me Arthur’s manservant, my duty to Gaius as his helper and apprentice. Those duties bestowed by my destiny and those to my mother, Hunith, the last of my family, and the friends that still live. I know very well what my duties are._

 _It is my purpose that has been unclear for so long. Yes, I am meant to help Arthur bring about a golden age, but that was just my destiny, forced upon me. What am I meant for? What am I to do once this happens? There is nothing afterwards that I can think of._

 _Sometimes, I wonder through these halls, feeling lost in this vast world, unsure of myself. Other times, I feel as if I know what I am meant to do, that it is just on the tip of my tongue and if I try hard enough, the idea will come. It never does though, the feeling fading as something distracts me, usually when I awaken from sleep._

 _Who knows, maybe I am doing what I’m meant to do and I don’t really know it. But for now, I am too busy to ponder it too long. Already the sun is rising and I must go to awaken Arthur. I will store this idea away for another day._

~*~

 

Merlin stared down blankly at the words written on slightly crinkled parchment; a cast-off of Gaius’s that he had scavenged. It had been months since he had written these words and many more, the pages tied together and stuffed into the back of his magic book where he knew no one would find them.

Of course, if someone ever found them, he would have bigger things to worry about than what was on these pages. He hoped that day never came. His head jerked up as the candle next to him flickered and guttered before going out. Peering closely at it in the dim light, he saw what was left of his candle, the wax a melted pool all around the burnt-out wick. It was time to get a new candle. He would gather the spent candle in the morning, melting the wax down to be reused.

Sighing, he tied the bundle back together and shoved them back into his book. Lifting the loose floor board with ease, he slipped the damning evidence into its snug hole and shut it. Getting up, he made his way through his room to the door.

Arthur thought he was just untidy and Gaius was still unsure, but the only reason his room was often in chaos was that his magic liked to play while he slept. But after years of practice, he’d finally gained a better leash on it and now, his room remained reasonably clean most of the time.

Opening his door, he looked out to see Gaius was still awake, nose jammed into the pages of a book as he read by firelight. He only glanced up as Merlin walked down the steps before turning back to his book.

Heading for the far side of the cluttered room, he stopped before a shelf of drawers. Bending down, he opened one of the large ones on the bottom, revealing a stash of crudely made candles, the wax a variety of differing colors.

Tugging one out of the pile, he shut it again, stretching as he stood, arms reaching up as he loosened his back and shoulder muscles, a sigh of pleasure at the feeling slipping out in an exhale of breath.

Taking a step back, he froze, a frown pulling down the corners of his lips as he felt something brush his consciousness. It was gone before he could figure out what it was, but it felt familiar, somehow, like he knew who it was.

Shrugging, he started to turn around and a wave of dizziness swept over him, causing the world to spin alarmingly and the edges of his vision to gray out. He saw the ground rushing up but couldn’t get his arms to move, his mind’s commands going unheeded.

The jarring thump as he landed on his front jolted him back, the world righting itself and his vision returning to normal. Letting out a pained groan, he pushed himself back up off the ground, using a nearby stool as a crutch in case the dizziness came back.

He heard shuffling feet and looked up to see Gaius starting to stand, frown marring his wrinkled brow as he looked down at his apprentice and ward. “Are you alright?” he asked, voice concerned, frown dragging at his lips, deepening the brackets already there.

Taking a breath, he nodded. “Yeah, just got dizzy for a moment and lost my balance. Must be more tired than I thought. I think I’ll go to bed a little early. No need to worry.” With a grunt, he pushed himself up the rest of the way, testing aching knees where he had landed on them, but they held, though complaining about the abuse they had just received.

“What are you researching?” he asked as a way to distract the older man from his concern.

Gaius shot him a look that said he knew what Merlin was doing, but answered anyway. “I found a link between rosemary and vervain that might be used to help in a poultice for rashes, but I’m having a little trouble finding it again.”

 _.: Interesting. :._

Merlin jerked, whipping his head around, searching for the voice. “What’s wrong?” Gaius asked, struggling to push back his chair, and looking around as well, fearing a magical attack.

“Ah, it was nothing. I just thought I heard something. My mistake, I think I’ll head to bed now. Good night.” Gaius nodded, bidding him good night as well and settling back into his chair, pulling the book closer once again.

Trudging up the stairs, he shut the door behind him quietly, leaning on it with a weary sigh. He rubbed at his ears, confused on how he was hearing things…or feeling things. Maybe there was a sorcerer nearby that he was picking up on by accident. That would explain a lot, and it would also mean he wasn’t starting to hear things.

 _.: Wrong. :._

He jumped, looking around, but his room was empty of anyone or anything, but just in case…he bent down, glancing under his bed. All that was there was the Sidhe staff and it had never spoken to him in all the years since he acquired it.

Thinking they could be hiding with magic, he pictured the words for the spell in his mind. His eyes flashed gold briefly before turning back to their normal blue. Nothing. Not even a shadow in the shadows.

Sighing, he walked over to his table and set the candle down next to the melted one. Toeing his boots off, he quickly stripped down to his smalls, shivering in the cool night air for a second before he dived down under the blankets, sighing as the heat flowed over him. The good thing about magic was that he could fix it to objects. Like a heat charm that kept his bed cozy when it was cool at night, or freezing in winter.

He must really be tired, to be imagining things. It was silly, to think that someone was talking to him, when he didn’t want them to. Sighing, he snuggled further into his blankets, relishing in the warmth.

 _.: If only you knew the truth. :._

He ignored the whispered words, willing sleep to take him faster before he started to think he was really hearing something. If he heard laughter, he decided it was someone outside and not in his head, ignoring that he was in one of the towers and at least three stories up with his window firmly shut.


	2. Part 1

**_ Part 1. _ **

With dawn’s arrival Merlin groaned and covered his head with his pillow. He hadn’t been able to get to sleep for some reason; thoughts jumping from one thing to another. Merlin had spent the night tossing and turning as he tried to find a comfortable position on his thin, straw-stuffed mattress.

Light leaked through the sides of his sole window and from around the door. He could hear Gaius shuffling around downstairs, ever the morning person. Peeling back gummy eyelids with a tired sigh, he sat up.

Except he wasn’t tired. Even after a sleepless night and the long day before, he felt like he could run a mile without breaking a sweat. A sluggish energy flowed through him, like warmed honey, making him feel restless, like he needed to get rid of some of it or else he would burst.

Standing, he made his way around the room, pulling on the things he would need today. His thicker pair of breeches and sturdy boots for walking through forest. A light shirt since it would be warm, though he would be wearing his customary jacket and neckerchief.

Dipping a ragged piece of cloth into his squat pitcher of lukewarm water, he did a quick wash of his face, hoping it would help get rid of the circles that must be under his eyes. A quick run-through of fingers through hair and he decided that he was as presentable as he could get.

Stopping briefly to scrape up the wax where it had spilled the night before from his bedside table into a lumpy ball, he grabbed his small pack that he had put together last night and left his room. As he walked down his small flight of stairs, he set the pack down and dropped the lump of wax into a small bucket with the one he’d used up a few days ago, when he’d had that dizzy spell.

Gaius was just setting out their breakfast: a lumpy pottage of oats and gruel with only a small drizzle of honey the only real flavoring, some hardened bread left over from the day before and a jug of well water, still reasonably cool.

He gave a small mental sigh. He knew he shouldn’t. There were many others in Camelot who had even less than this. Except, he couldn’t help but compare it to the food he would soon be delivering to Arthur’s chambers. Already, he could almost smell the ham and sausage, lightly scrambled eggs, maybe a little fruit. Water, of course, Arthur didn’t like wine or any sort of alcohol so early in the morning, especially right before a training session or on a hunting trip like today.

“Merlin, are you all right? You seem distracted.” Gaius’s voice broke into his thoughts and he came back to his surroundings. It was then he looked down to see he hadn’t taken a single bite of his food, just pushed it around in the bowl, his free hand tapping a jittery pattern against the rough wood of the table.

He consciously forced his hand to still and then took a spoonful of his gruel. It was bland; honey was only able to do so much before it became overpowering with sweetness. Forcing it down, it sank heavily to the pit of his stomach, making him feel slightly nauseous. “I’m fine, just restless.” He didn’t mention the sleepless night, not wanting Gaius to worry or have to worry about Gaius forcing him to drink some potion to help him sleep. Just the thought of one of those elixirs had him shuddering and losing what little appetite he had left.

He waited for Gaius to finish the last of his food and rise, and while the older man’s back was turned, he let his eyes flash briefly to gold, sending the food to the slop pile in the back of the castle were the kitchen was. Standing as well, he pasted on a smile, taking his bowl over to their water bucket and rinsing it out before setting it with the rest of their dishes face down so it could drip dry.

Turning, he saw Gaius watching him, but he kept his smile in place, hoping it would fool the old physician. Gaius sent a shrewd look his way before turning away to pick up a small bag off his work bench. “I put together a small pack, just the basics, all labeled. There’s always at least one person who gets hurt on these big hunts.” He arched his eyebrow at Merlin. _“Usually you or Arthur,”_ it implied, and Merlin couldn’t help but give an affronted huff.

“I’m not that clumsy.” The eyebrow stayed up. “It’s not my fault. Arthur has some sort of gift for attracting trouble whenever he steps foot from his room, sometimes even in there as well.” That was true. With Morgana gone once again, he would have figured they were at least safe in the castle. After the first assassination attempt following her thwarted coup of Camelot, he’d given up trying to be subtle and now kept at least one eye on his crown prince, if not two or more, gathering allies in his quest to keep Arthur alive. Gwen and all of the knights had readily agreed with him, seeing the sense in it. Arthur couldn’t always be on alert and he needed people to watch his back.

Gaius nodded in agreement, handing over the pack. “Fine.” He peered up at him. “Are you sure you are all right? You’re looking paler than usual.”

“I’m fine. Just a little tired. Took me a while to get to sleep last night.” The lie was easy, simple and plausible. It seemed with each one he told, each day he was here, it became a little easier to say them. He still stammered over big, obvious lies, but the rest had so far gone undetected. It should make him uneasy, but he felt nothing really. It made his life a little easier and made it a little easier to hide what he was in plain sight. There was only one lie that still made him feel guilty and he hoped to one day reveal the truth, though now was not the right time with Uther still on the throne.

Looking through the window in the main room, he saw that the light growing stronger. It was time to go get Arthur’s meal and get him ready for the hunt. “I’ve got to go, Gaius. I’ll be back later this evening and hopefully no one will get hurt.” Gaius nodded, patting him on the shoulder before turning back to his workbench, mind already elsewhere.

Slipping through the main door, Merlin jogged most of the way down to the kitchens. Sleepy kitchen maids smiled at him as he entered, their hands busy with making breakfast, only stopping to wipe already sweating brows as the main cooking fire roared in its hearth, and filled the room with heat as bread rose and meat cooked. Arthur’s tray was already made up, set aside from the busy flow of traffic of the kitchen. Nodding in thanks to the head cook, he quickly left, sucking in cool air as he rose higher into the castle where the royal suites were situated.

Using his shoulder, he pushed gently against the door, opening it with only a slight squeak from the hinges. Arthur was awake, though still in bed. The crimson duvet was shoved to the end of the bed, only a sheet covering his hips and legs, upper body bare, what light that came through the still closed curtains highlighting his muscled chest as he leaned against the headboard.

Arthur’s blue eyes tracked him as he walked in and set the tray down before going to shut the door. “Did you remember to sharpen my sword and check my chainmail?”

“Yes, Arthur. Your horse has been reshoed, and the broken buckle on your saddle has been fixed and is waiting with the rest of your tack in the stable,” he replied. The door was shut, just the two of them in the room. Arthur only ever called him on using his name when he slipped up and said it in front of someone who didn’t know of their odd friendship…or Uther.

“Good.” He pushed himself up off the bed, back muscles rippling from the effort. As the sheet started to slip down, Merlin politely averted his gaze, heading for Arthur’s wardrobe to get his outfit ready. Thin undershirt, his gambeson to cushion and protect him from the chainmail, thick, fine-spun breeches, and high black leather boots meant for running through forest completed the outfit.

Merlin carried these over to where he stood behind the screen, draping them over the top and setting the boots beside the screen, a pair of socks set on top. As Arthur dressed, he went back to the table and started setting out his breakfast, filling his goblet with clear water. Once he finished with that, he went to a chest set against the wall next to the wardrobe.

Opening it, he pulled out Arthur’s folded chainmail, shaking it and giving it a once-over for any out-of-place links. Done, he draped it over the back of a chair. Arthur’s sword was propped up against his bedside table in easy reach in case he was attacked while he slept.

Arthur stepped back into view dressed except for his socks and boots, which he ignored, walking barefoot with catlike grace and silence to the table where he sat down. As he ate, Merlin tidied up the room and made his bed. After five years of doing this over and over, even Arthur couldn’t complain about him being a horrid manservant, so now he just ignored him in the morning. Arthur wasn’t a morning person.

“Have you packed for the hunt?” he asked as Merlin started to pick up his dirty clothes from behind the screen and the general vicinity. Merlin still hadn’t cured Arthur of the habit of throwing his clothes on the floor wherever he pleased. He didn’t think he ever would.

“Yes, and Gaius packed a medical kit just in case someone gets hurt.” Arthur grunted in reply and went back to his breakfast in silence.

Looking around, he checked for any pieces of missed clothing. He’d have to drop these off at the laundress’ before they left. He’d stopped washing Arthur’s clothes himself after he’d done it too hard and scrubbed a hole into his favorite shirt. After Gwen had fixed his mistake with her clever needle work to keep Arthur from finding about the hole, she had shown him where he could drop the prince’s clothing off to be washed by professionals to be picked up later. He blessed her constantly for that tidbit of information which made his day and workload a little easier.

Seeing that Arthur was still occupied with breakfast, he stepped out to drop off the dirty clothing. By the time he returned, Arthur had finished and was just pulling on his socks and boots. “I’ll just return this and help you with your chainmail.” Another grunt in answer, which he took for agreement. Piling everything back on the tray and whipping the table down quickly, he left to return the dishes to the kitchen.

He was back a few minutes later, hands empty of the tray but laden with another pack from one of the kitchen maids, smaller than the others, filled with simple fare for him to eat while riding out on the hunt. Thoughtful, but his appetite still hadn’t returned and he wasn’t sure his stomach would forgive him if he tried to eat while riding his horse.

Arthur was standing by the window, staring out across the roof tops of his city-- or it would be his when he became king, _if_ he became king. But that was Merlin’s job, to make sure he lived long enough to feel the weight of the crown on his head. Setting the pack down with the his own pack and the one Gaius had given him, he was going to have a hard time carrying these not to mention most of Arthur’s gear, and went to the chair where he had laid the chainmail.

“Arthur,” he called, drawing the prince’s attention from the view. He blinked owlishly for a second as if he was just wakening. Seeming to pull himself together, Arthur strode over, boots thumping on the stone floor, seven times to reach where Merlin stood, holding up the chainmail for him to wear. A small struggle had it on and over his head and shoulders, the links clicking softly as they came to rest heavily against his collarbones and shoulders.

Merlin grabbed his sword and belt, kneeling down to wrap it around his trim hips, cinch it tight, the sword a balanced weight on his left hip, resting in the indent years of wearing it had created for it on the belt. He helped Arthur with his leather vambraces, tucking the trailing sleeves of metal links into them to lock them into place and then they were done, the image was complete.

He hadn’t always worn chainmail out on hunts, but with the still fresh attack on Camelot, the forests around the castle were not as safe as they had been. Now, Arthur took precautions to insure his safety. With Camelot’s people still reeling from Morgana’s betrayal, Camelot’s succession was on a shaky foundation. Now was not the time to gamble with fate.

He’d always thought this image of Arthur was the best. He always seemed happiest when they were setting out for a hunt, with no responsibilities hanging over his head or duties holding him back, forcing him into the role of crown prince. At times like this, he could be just Arthur, the young man behind the title who so rarely was given reign. He thought Arthur glowed when he was like this, but that could just be his imagination.

They left without a word, Arthur shutting and locking his door behind them, Merlin picking up his packs, hoping Arthur decided to go light with his gear today. The hunting gear and weapons were kept in storage in the stables. It made it easier to get to them than having to go all the way to the weapons storage room on the training paddock.

The others were already there, dressed similarly. Gwaine grinned and clapped them both on the back as they drew near. Lancelot and Elyan just nodded, Percival waving slightly as he let out a huge yawn. Leon was just coming up, his horse saddled and ready. “Sire.” He broke the silence with ease of practice.

Merlin continued towards the stalls that held his mare and Arthur’s charger. A high spirited gelding, Herestræl tossed his head, dark brown mane and coat twitching with excitement and the need to stretch his legs and _run_. Smiling in understanding, he set the packs down and walked to the wall to pull down both horses’ tack.

Working quickly, he readied them; feeding Herestræl a sugar lump as a bribe to stand still so he could get him ready faster. He didn’t even try and trick him like the first time he’d saddled this horse. Back then, he’d never saddled one before, had never needed to and hadn’t known any of the tricks a horse pulled to keep from being saddled. Arthur had yelled at him for a long while, face covered in dirt from where he’d landed in a mud puddle after the saddle had slid sideways, girth strap loose.

In contrast, his horse was placid, reminding him a lot of their cow back home who would spend all day just standing in the sun munching on clover and hay if she could. Cyssan stood still, not even fidgeting as most horses did when they were being saddled. Except underneath the placid, light gray exterior was hidden a core of steel. He’d witnessed first-hand how quickly she could shift personalities. He hadn’t known when Arthur had first given her to him, but she was a trained warhorse, one that could be relied on to keep from panicking in battles and skirmishes. Since she had saved his life many times when his attention had been elsewhere, mainly on keeping Arthur alive. Arthur of course didn’t know he knew the hidden secret of his gift and he left it that way.

Finished, he led the two horses out. Herestræl tossed his head, tugging at the reins wanting to be free. His horse just ambled on like she had all the time in the world. The packs were strapped to her saddle and as Arthur handed him the hunting gear, he added those as well, setting them gently on her sides and balancing them so they didn’t jostle or hurt her on the ride.

They set out, the conversation nonexistent until they cleared the walls of the city. It soon flowed easy, ranging from all areas of conversation, none caring that Arthur was prince and all but two of them peasants by birth. They all included Merlin in, seeing him as just another knight, though without the title of course. He had served Arthur long enough and had saved him enough times to have earned that much respect.

“We’re never taking Merlin to a tavern again.” Gwaine joked as he finished his story of his, Merlin’s, and Lancelot’s trip to the tavern a few weeks prior. “He can’t hold his drink at all.”

“I can so hold my drink!” he growled back at him, cheeks and ears flushing a light pink in embarrassment.

“Yeah, a cup before you’re singing at the top of your lungs and tripping over your feet more than usual.” Gwaine laughed loudly, head thrown back.

“Lance…,” the other knight held up his hands, not wanting to take sides. Up ahead, Arthur was laughing with Gwaine, light shining off of his blonde hair. He hadn’t heard Arthur laugh like that in a while and decided his embarrassment was worth it to hear it again.

He had no idea why Gaius called these hunts big. They were tiny next to the hunts on the major holidays, when all but the youngest and oldest men ranged out through the forests, hunting down game to fill the tables of the castle and the homes throughout the city. _Those_ were big and usually kept him and Gaius on their toes for at least a couple of days treating anything from sprained ankles to hangovers after the celebrating was over. This though, this was just a group of men, friends even, going out to hunt and if they didn’t bring anything back, well that was all right as long as they had fun.

They would of course bring something home. Arthur would be unable to _not_ bring something home; always doing what was expected of him as a knight and prince, even when he was trying to get away from it. And of course Merlin would try and keep that from happening as much as he could. Five years of trekking through forest was enough time to hone his skills of walking silently. He could if he needed to, but mostly he was content to keep from tripping over any roots in the path. Arthur of course didn’t know this, since he deliberately went out of his way to step on the big twigs and dried leaves.

They didn’t go far, about two hours ride from the castle, just far enough that they wouldn’t need to worry about what they might say or do in case of prying eyes and ears. The small clearing was littered with leaves, undisturbed by horse hooves or human feet, though a few animal tracks crossed it, a few days old, by Arthur’s estimate, which was usually right.

They dismounted and got to work setting up camp, and soon had a fire going. Merlin quickly stripped their packs from his horse, setting them at a safe distance from the fire.

Already Arthur was in motion, restlessly prowling around the clearing, looking for any signs of fresh passage. Every few steps, he would crouch down, examining the ground, touching damp soil and dry leaves, gauging how recently the tracks had been made.

Merlin gave a small mental groan as he realized this would be one of those run-all-over-the-place-after-anything-that-moved hunts. He could see it in the way Arthur held his shoulders, the muscles tense in anticipation, his fingers clenching around a crossbow that he didn’t hold yet.

Sighing, he quickly sorted through the pile of gear, sorting out what Arthur would carry, his crossbow and bolt quiver, maybe the food pack if he was still hungry. Merlin shook his head; he’d watched Arthur clearing his plate this morning, and he wouldn’t be hungry for a while yet. He put the food pack with his own set of things to carry.

Medical pack, food pack, water skin, and a small sharp knife used mainly to skin the kills, but it also doubled as protection, though against what he didn’t know since he had yet to use it for that purpose. Sliding the sheathed knife into an inside pocket he’d had sewn into his jacket, he picked up the packs and water skin, settling the weight evenly over his shoulders and back.

Arthur stalked up, snagging his crossbow and quiver, settling them on his person with easy familiarity. The others were also ready, Elyan the only one still seated, having already declared that he preferred staying in the camp to hunt. What it really meant was that Elyan was shit with a bow or crossbow and would only end up hitting one of them by accident.

Smiling at the knight, he waved and had to rush to catch up with the others as they jogged out from the clearing. Arthur just shot him a look that screamed _‘idiot’_ , but didn’t say anything as they continued on. Merlin caught Gwaine’s eye, and they shared a smirk at the disgruntled prince.

The forest was quiet except for the occasional bird singing, the sun fairly high in the sky and warming the air underneath the canopy of leaves they stood beneath. Merlin could barely suppress his grin as he stepped on a large twig that gave a loud, pleasing crack, startling the deer up ahead and sending it fleeing.

“ _Mer_ lin, must you make so much noise?” Arthur growled out, turning a glare on his manservant. Merlin just gave one of his usual grins, shrugging nonchalantly in the face of Arthur’s ire. “Stay behind us, and _try_ to keep from making too much noise,” he growled out and spun, stalking further into the woods. Merlin just grinned behind his back.

“You know, you keep this up and it’s the stocks for you,” Gwaine whispered as he brushed past Merlin. In spite of his serious voice, he was grinning just as much as the servant, enjoying the prince’s ire as a sort of pastime.

Merlin didn’t say anything as the rest of the knights passed him and Gwaine followed, leaving him to take up the rear. Deciding that he had antagonized Arthur enough, he stepped carefully, avoiding stepping on anything that would make a sound large enough to startle game. Lancelot turned and sent him a knowing look, but his eyes were smiling at his friend, seeing through Merlin’s game. He turned back to catch up with Arthur.

He was so engrossed in keeping up and watching his steps that he failed to notice the moment when the forest went silent. He had already traveled some yards before he noticed, looking up from the ground to look around.

The others had gone a little further ahead of him, but stopped as Arthur seemed to have sighted new prey. He was motioning, sending them around to flush out their prey as he readied his crossbow, fingers moving in familiar, silent motions. The others nodded, moving away to circle the creature, leaving Arthur and Merlin to keep watch.

Something was wrong though. The forest only ever got this silent when something was coming…or already nearby. He felt it then, a niggling little voice in the back of his mind that was screaming magic, strong magic!, was close by.

Deciding to risk disturbing Arthur and startling his prey again, he stalked forward silently until he was behind the prince. “Arthur…”

Arthur jumped, having not heard his approach from behind. “Shush, Merlin, you’ll scare the deer off with your big mouth.”

“But Arthur…”

“Merlin, shut _up_!”

He stalked ahead on silent feet, ignoring Merlin’s glare at his back, as he raised his crossbow to aim. It was then Merlin felt it, a tingling on his skin as whatever magic was nearby drew closer. He took a step closer to the prince and saw it.

It wasn’t large, compared to some of the other things they had faced, but it was still larger than either of them, with scaled skin dappled in brown and black, that allowed it to blend into the shadows. He wouldn’t have noticed it were it not for the creature’s eyes shining golden from the shadow of a bush.

It reared up, unobserved by the concentrating prince, mouth opening to allow hinged fangs to lower, clear venom dripping from the pearl-colored bone. He reacted without thought, mind-crystal clear and focused on one thing as he rushed forward. “Arthur, look out!” He jumped forward just as the thing struck, shoving the prince away from its downward path.

They landed in a pile of limbs, the crossbow knocked out of Arthur’s hands and the packs scattered. The creature let out a hiss of frustration, rearing back again as the two scrambled to straighten themselves, Arthur already reaching for his sword.

He shoved Merlin to the side, rolling up and onto his feet in one graceful move, drawing his sword with a hiss of sharpened steel. Merlin lay there for a second; catching his breath as Arthur attacked the thing first. He could hear the others crashing through the underbrush, alerted by his warning shout and coming to their aid.

He was winded to watch but he saw legs flash by, one, two, three…four pairs as they all went at the beast. Merlin, knowing they were in good hands with the five of them attacking the creature, just sat there, trying to recover.

He only looked up when there was a scream of anguish and whatever it was that had attacked fell to the ground with a thud, twitching in its last moments before death.

For a few moments, they just stood there, catching their breaths, doing a quick survey of each other by eye to see who was hurt. Arthur pushed off of the tree he was leaning against, grinning slightly as he walked over to where Merlin was still sitting on the ground. “It appears I owe you again for saving my life, Merlin.”

Merlin tried to grin, but just couldn’t dredge up the effort to work the muscles in his face. He settled for nodding as the prince offered him a hand up. Concentrating, he reached for it, Arthur’s hand like a vice as it lifted him to his feet.

There was a second, as everything seemed to come into sharp focus-- the sound of the wind through the trees, breath through the knight’s lips and lungs, birds singing again now that the thing was dead, sunlight shining on metal-- and then the world greyed alarmingly, his knees giving out beneath his weight.

He could only let out a pained gasp as Arthur’s chainmail encased arm caught him, holding him up like he weighed nothing. “Merlin!” He blinked, but the world felt far off, grey still taking over his vision.

Someone was tugging at his jacket, insistent fingers worming under the material to get at his side which seemed to be on fire. He gasped again, his vision sparking with colorful spots as the grey started to fade to black, his side flaring agonizingly as whoever’s hand it was under his shirt touched the heat on his side.

Arthur was speaking to him as he was lowered; he could hear his voice, but he couldn’t make out the words, blinking up at the faces swimming over him, worry lining their faces. He watched Arthur’s lips and could see them forming his name, frantic as they said it over and over, unheard as the blood rushed in his ears. The noise was getting louder and he realized with some dark humor that he was about to pass out. He tried to keep himself conscious, but the pull was too much and his vision went totally black, blocking out the world and the knights crowded above him.

~*~

Arthur grunted under Merlin’s dead weight, keeping the limp man up as the knights converged on them, Gwaine frowning worriedly as he lifted Merlin’s jacket, hand touching his side. Arthur’s heart squeezed at the pained gasp he gave and Gwaine pulled his hand back, red coating the tips of his fingers.

“Merlin!” He tried to rouse his manservant, lowering him to the ground gently with the help of the others, turning him over. Merlin couldn’t seem to focus, pupils blown wide with pain as he breathed in short pants, his chest rising shallowly. “Merlin, stay with us. You need to stay awake while we get you to Gaius.” He knew he was babbling, but this wasn’t something that had happened before. Merlin always came out of these things unscratched; grinning fit to split his face in half. To see him on the ground like this, because he was protecting Arthur _again_ was like a knife to the gut.

Arthur’s heart skipped a beat as Merlin’s eyes closed, but he was still breathing which meant he had only passed out. “Sire, we must go. We need to get him to Gaius,” Lancelot said softly, tugging at Arthur’s arm.

“All right, Gwaine, get the horses. Help me get him on my horse and follow with his. Lancelot and Percival, help Elyan break camp. Leon, ride ahead, and make sure Gaius is ready for us when we get there.”

They were running the moment he stopped speaking, rushing back the way they had come to get to the camp. It felt like forever before Gwaine came back with the horses, galloping through the trees in his rush to get back to Merlin. He pulled his horse up, the other two right behind him on leads.

Dismounting quickly, he rushed over to help Arthur pick up the limp man as they carried him over to Herestræl, Cyssan looking as worried as a horse could for her injured rider. The larger gelding, sensing the urgency, held perfectly still as Arthur mounted, Gwaine holding Merlin’s dead weight as he waited. Between the two of them, they got him situated seated in front of Arthur, Gwaine not even questioning whether that was a good idea.

Gwaine quickly mounted behind then and took Cyssan’s lead rein again as they started out at a slow trot, trying not to hurt the unconscious man any more than necessary. They covered ground steadily, but each mile seemed to slide by excruciatingly slowly, the only sign that Merlin still lived the soft brush of breath against the Arthur’s neck where his head lay limp on his shoulder.

The knot in his chest let up some as the turrets of Camelot came into view and he spurred Herestræl into a faster gait, the horse not even complaining about the added weight of two people, as though sensing the tension in his rider by the way he sat on his back.

People flowed out of their way as they galloped down the streets of the city, racing forward to reach the physician. Gaius was already waiting with Leon and some guards as they pulled up before him. The older man seemed to freeze for a moment at the sight of his ward and then he went into motion, ordering the guards to help get Merlin off the horse and to carry him to his rooms.

Arthur followed, Gwaine on his heels, leaving the horses for the stable hands coming their way. They laid him on the table, the guards leaving them as Gaius got to work trying to undress his injured ward. Growling, Arthur stepped forward, drawing his knife and slicing through the material instead of trying to take it off the regular way.

The two lifted him as Gaius worked the cloth off his arms. Two puncture wounds cut into his side, red and inflamed, already spreading out in a web of red veins as the creature’s venom slowly worked through his body.

“What was it?” Gaius asked as he shuffled around the room, pulling vials and jars from his shelves, looking at some and shaking his head, putting them back only to pull down another. Gwaine followed behind, holding the jars Gaius passed him. There was a large pile of them by the time they returned to where Merlin lay.

“I…I’m not sure.” Arthur admitted, hands shaking as he took some of the vials Gwaine held out to him, setting them to one side of the table.

Pausing, Gaius went over to his book shelves, scanning the spins before pulling down one particularly thick volume. “One of you, look through this bestiary, see if you can find it.” Arthur took it, nodding for Gwaine to continue helping the physician. He sat down at a work table and started flipping through the book.

Twenty minutes later, he turned the last page, his heart a cold lump of lead in his chest. “Gaius, it’s not in here,” he said, jumping up and beginning to pace, book clutched tightly in his hand. The two were still beside Merlin, working. Gwaine was holding Merlin’s head up, helping Gaius as he poured some concoction down his throat.

Gaius seemed to age visibly at those words as he sat back, Gwaine laying Merlin back down on the table. A bandage was wrapped around his waist, though blood still seeped out, starting to soak through the bandage. “Then there is nothing we can do.”

“What? There has to be a way for you to help him!” Arthur demanded, turning hard eyes on the physician.

“Until we know what bit him, there is no way for me to know what will save him. For now, all we can do is wait and hope he is strong enough to fight off the beast’s venom.” His voice was barely a whisper, eyes sad and glassy as he watched his ward breathe shallowly.

Arthur growled and started to pace the small room in the available space. “Sire, perhaps you might seek out Geoffrey. If any can figure out what beast this is, it will be him.”

Arthur nodded, turning to the door. “Keep him alive. I don’t care what you do, keep him alive.” He left in haste, not stopping to see if Gaius had anything else to say.

~*~

Gwaine and Gaius stared at the door for a second, unsure how to react to the prince’s behavior. To Gaius, it was normal for the two of them to act this way, desperate to save the other’s life. For Gwaine, it was still new and left him wondering what it was that lay between these two different people.

The moment of silence was shattered as Merlin gasped, his breathing still shallow, though it seemed to have evened out. Gwaine turned to the physician. “Gaius, how long do we have?” He’d always been the practical one, never remembering the past, never looking towards the future, living in the moment and asking what needed to be asked. He hated this part of himself at the moment.

“I won’t be sure until we know what it was that bit him. I give him a week at most,” Gaius admitted guiltily, staring down at his ward. Merlin was pale, skin like snow but for his face, where blood pooled under his skin as the fever that Gaius had hoped to divert started to manifest, heating him from the inside out.

They both jumped as the door burst open, Gwen tumbling in, breathing fast as her wide brown eyes took in the room, Gwaine standing solemnly beside the table where Merlin lay, pale and unconscious. “No!”

The cry seemed to be torn from her throat at the sight of her friend. She didn’t even seem to realize she was moving until she was standing beside the table, looking down at Merlin. “Gaius?” she asked hesitantly. Gaius didn’t reply. Unwilling to say anything further until he was sure and the silence stretches between them.

~*~

“Sire, how can I be of service?” Geoffrey asked rising to his feet as Arthur charged through the double doors of the library, face grim.

“I need your help to find out the name of a beast. Someone’s life depends on it.” It went unsaid that the only person Arthur would be this desperate to save was Merlin.

“Of course. The bestiaries are this way. If you could describe it to me; I will be able to work much faster.” As Arthur began to describe the creature that had attacked them, the old Archivist’s face became increasingly somber. A pile of books was already resting on a nearby table waiting to be skimmed through, taken down as Arthur described the creature.

“It will take me some time, sire. If I might be so bold, perhaps you should report to your esteemed father of this attack. He will want to know, and messengers can be sent out to see if anyone else has been struck down.”

It took Arthur a moment to process what the older man had suggested and he realized that he should have had reported it before coming here. His father had never cared for his… _friendship_ with Merlin, if that was what it was, and the fact that he has put Merlin above his father and the safety of the kingdom would not sit well with Camelot’s king.

“Perhaps you are right.” He nodded in acknowledgement. “Please, the moment you find what it is, go to Gaius.” He flinched away from the pity in the lord’s eyes, feeling vulnerable and exposed that he had let his worry and concern for Merlin take hold of his emotions so. “Geoffrey.”

“Sire.”

Arthur retreated, rising a cold mask of indifference over the emotional quagmire that he had stumbled into. He would need to be able to focus if he was going to face his father. His father might not be the man he used to be after Morgana’s betrayal, but he still had a sharp mind and a sharper tongue, and would use both on his son if need be. Squaring his shoulders, Arthur braced himself for the argument that was sure to come.

~*~

 

“Arthur.”

“Father.” He gave a mental flinch at the cold steel that rang in Uther’s voice. His father was angry. Not the fiery anger that led to shouting, things thrown, but quickly quenched once what needed to be said was said. No, this was a cold, simmering anger that bled into everything he said and did. When his father was like this, he was at his most dangerous, most calculating when it came to seeing weaknesses.

“Tell me, why is it I learned of the attack on you not from your own mouth, but from one of your knights?” Uther’s eyes were cold and indifferent, his posture relaxed, as though he was commenting on the weather to someone he cared little for.

“I’m sorry, Father. I should have reported to you first,” Arthur replied reflexively, hoping that his taking on all responsibility and baring his throat to his father would keep the anger boiling under his skin from erupting.

Uther gave a little sigh. “You still do not seem to understand what it means to be a ruler. I’ve tried to warn you, subtly and bluntly, yet you still do not heed my word and continue to put that peasant above his station and worth. When will you learn that sometimes, there must be sacrifices in order for the kingdom to remain whole?” With each word, Arthur felt more ice enter his veins; leaching any warmth from inside and making him feel sick.

“You also taught me to reward those who do service to the crown. You taught me that this is a harsh world and to hold those who are loyal close,” he replied, anger rising as dread sunk his stomach further. He had to placate his father soon before the older man made a rash decision.

“I did indeed teach you that, but not to raise them above their station in life.”

“Father, he saved my life. If it were not for him, it would be me in Gaius’s rooms right now, not him. How is trying to save his life in return putting him above his station?” he demanded, letting his anger give him the courage to question his king. His father was not a rational man anymore, though how rational he had been before Morgana’s betrayal he didn’t know.

He could see it now though, the thin hold his father was keeping on his sanity. His father was a broken man, and broken men were never rational. How he had not realized this was a mystery. He had seen it, after the fighting had ended, the lost look on Uther’s face. He wasn’t even surprised that Uther had withdrawn from court for a few weeks as he recovered from his ordeal, and when he had come back looking whole and healthy, Arthur had taken it at face value.

Before Uther could speak, he cut in, trying to sooth his father’s ruffled feathers. “I understand why you say this to me. Merlin is a peasant,” didn’t that taste sour as he spoke those words, “he knows nothing of what it means to rule. But he still saved my life, has saved it many times, and the least I can do is repay him by trying to save him. He would do the same for me, father.”

Uther gave a huff, but seemed to relax into a more casual posture, eyes no longer lifeless. “I do not question his loyalty, I question his motives. No man would do this much unless he was after something.”

Arthur couldn’t help but laugh, giving a sigh of relief at the crises that was diverted. “Merlin is too much of an idiot to try for anything more. At most, he would probably just ask for a day off.” He shared an arrogant smirk with Uther at the joke while something twisted in his chest. Merlin was dying right now and he was forced to belittle him just to keep his father from trying to kill him.

“I am sorry for not coming here first, father. I let sentimental emotions cloud my judgment for a moment. I won’t let it happen again.” He let steel ring in his voice, and his father took it at face value. He didn’t realize what emotions Arthur spoke of. He had let them cloud his judgment, let panic grip him, worry guide him, and his friendship blind him from the rest of the world. From now on, he would have to tread a very thin line, if he was to keep from rousing his father’s suspicions.

~*~

The two of them jumped as someone knocked at the door. Gwen had left some time before at their suggestion when she started to fall asleep on the stool she had commandeered. Arthur had yet to return from his meeting with his father and Gwaine wondered what that could mean.

“Geoffrey, come in, come in.” Gaius said as the door opened to show the Archivist, book in hand. “Any news?” he asked as the door shut with a soft thump. Gwaine remained seated on his own stool next to Merlin, who had been moved to Gaius’s cot so that Gaius could use his table to work.

He had a perfect view of the look of pity that crossed Geoffrey’s face and felt his heart skip a beat at what it could mean, scenarios going through his mind.

“I’m sorry, Gaius.” Gaius walked over to him, taking the book to look at the page Geoffrey showed him.

“What? What is it?” He raised his voice, forcing them to notice him sitting there.

Gaius walked over with the book, lowering it so he could see what they had been studying. Although it wasn’t detailed, the image was enough. The creature’s long sinuous neck that tapered to a delicate skull and small ears, muscled flanks, limbs just as muscled but short, with webbed feet. Its tail was whip cord thin. The image showed scales covering its body, dappled in brown and black. “That…that is it,” he replied gruffly, looking down at Merlin’s prone form. They had already had to change his bandages twice, and he was starting to sweat as the venom wormed through his veins. It was working slowly, the webbing of red from the bite mark having only gained a few more inches.

Gaius handed the book back to Geoffrey, hands visibly shaking. The older man cleared his throat and started to speak. “The Attor is a creature of magic and the old religion. It is akin to the Questing Beast in that its bite kills just as easily. Its name is derived from the word poison, and it venom has no antidote.” The room was silent as he stopped to catch his breath before continuing. “However, unlike the Questing Beast, its bite does not always mean death. If the one who is bitten by it has a strong enough will to live, they may fight off the venom.”

The room fell silent again. “Has anyone ever survived its bite?” Gwaine asked.

“There are records of warriors of old who have been bitten as they fought it and survived. Another is of a powerful sorcerer who was able to use his magic to drive the venom from his body. Yet another tells of a woman, who pushed her lover aside and was bitten instead and survived.”

“He pushed Arthur out of the way. Perhaps…”

“I don’t think friendship and loyalty applies to this, Gwaine and the fact that Merlin and I are not lovers makes it a moot point.” They all turned to see Arthur standing in the open door. “And unless he is really some great sorcerer or mighty warrior of old, then all we can hope for is that his will to live is strong enough to survive the venom.”

“Sire.” Geoffrey bowed to the prince. Setting the book down for Gaius to look through later, he left the three men to talk.

As the door was shut again, Arthur seemed to relax some, though the tension in his shoulders did not dissipate. “My father has been… _informed_ of today’s events.” No one spoke as he walked over to where Merlin lay and Gwaine sat, staring down at the dying man. “It took all I had to keep my father from executing him on the spot to prove his point.”

“And what point is that?” Gwaine asked, defensive of his friend.

“That I care too much for him.”


	3. Part 2

**_ Part 2. _ **

Merlin knew the moment he started to surface back to the real world that something was wrong. It wasn’t even the fact that his magic seemed to be going haywire just beneath his skin. It was the point of fire on his side, tendrils of heat flowing from the main source, throbbing with every pump of his heart.

His head felt stuffed full of wool, his senses deadened. As he lay there trying to remember what happened, he felt it again, a brush of something against his consciousness, against his magic. It seemed to calm his magic as whatever it was brushed against him again. Thinking it was another sorcerer; he touched back, or tried to; his magic as clumsy as him. _‘Hello?’_

A spike of surprise was short lived as whoever it was focused on him. _‘Is anyone there?’_ He felt foolish, talking to himself in his mind and was about to stop when they answered.

 _.:Yes!:._

 _‘Where am I?’_ he asked, unable to open his eyes to look around.

 _.:Camelot, in Gaius’s work rooms.:._

 _‘Oh, why am I here? The last I remember we were on a hunt…’_ His words trailed off as the images flowed back into his mind: the ride out, Arthur stalking the deer, the creature rearing to strike, pain, concerned faces looking down at him.

 _.:You’re dying.:._. The voice said it matter of factly and he took it at face value.

 _‘Who are you?’_

 _.:I am you. I am Emrys.:._

 _‘What, that can’t be right. How are you me? I’m me.’_ His heart had sped up at the claim.

 _.:You’re dying, Merlin and I can save you…but I can’t do it when you are in control.:._

 _‘Right, and once you have control, you’ll just heal me and that will be the end of it. I highly doubt that.’_ He turned away mentally and ignored the voice and presence that kept prodding at his mind.

~*~

He wasn’t sure how much time passed as he drifted, locked somewhere between waking and sleeping. Mostly it was silent, the voice, Emrys, having receded after a while. Sometimes though, he could hear voices above him, and knew it was someone talking about him. Now was no different.

“Gaius, he’s not getting any better.” That was Gwaine, worry lacing his rich tenor voice.

“I know. He’s fighting it, but unless he finds the strength to overcome it completely, I don’t think he will make it.” That was Gaius, his voice crackling like dry leaves, heavy with worry and near defeat.

So the voice had spoken the truth; he was dying. His ears perked up as they started talking again. “What of Arthur?” Gaius asked. Merlin could hear him walking, the clink of glass telling that Gaius was keeping his hands busy as he worked.

“He’s been avoiding Merlin for now, trying to keep from raising his father’s suspicions. I know that Uther is his father, but Arthur needs to grow a pair and stand up to that old man. He shouldn’t have to worry about whether he visits a friend or not.” Gwaine’s voice was a low rumble as his anger got the better of him.

“Uther is king before he is Arthur’s father, and Arthur knows this. Uther holds Merlin’s life in his hands and he is using it to control his son, so Arthur must step cautiously for now. It may seem a cruel thing, but this is how things work. Until Arthur is king himself, he must obey Uther, no matter what their relationship is.”

He tried to listen some more, but their voices were fading out. He was back in the in-between state, though he didn’t notice with so much to think about. Arthur was keeping Uther from killing him by not coming. He hoped Arthur and the others were okay.

~*~

One thing about not being able to completely wake or go to sleep, it left you too much time to think and feel. He felt everything at the moment, could feel the low drag of air through his lips and down his throat; the uneven pump of his heart, stuttering on every fourth beat; he could even feel the venom in his blood, a burning hot force that was inexorably advancing through his body, killing him slowly and surely.

He could feel the heated flush of his skin, drops of sweat beading on his skin as his body fought, the touch of cold cloth and someone’s hand on his forehead, neck, chest, trying to keep him cool. It was the only thing that gave him any reference to time, anything to look forward to.

As time wore on though, he began to replay those words he had heard before, from Emrys. Could Emrys really save him? He could feel the panic bubbling just below the surface, held at bay by sheer will alone. Panicking would get nothing done.

 _‘Emrys?’_ he called out hesitantly. For all he knew, he could have been hallucinating and hearing voices. But then came the brush of something familiar against his mind.

 _.:Yes.:._

 _‘Who are you, really?’_ That seemed to be the most he could think of to ask, his mind too muddled at the moment.

 _.:I am you.:._ was the enigmatic, sounding with a ring of power that he hadn’t noticed before.

 _‘Yes, but…’_

 _.:I can show you.:._ the voice offered, and Merlin felt himself nodding mentally, wanting to see who it was.

His mind seemed to white out momentarily, and then he was standing in some sort of cave. It was nearly pitch black, but something seemed to be giving off a light that was steadily growing brighter. He blinked, and blinked again, unsure of what to make of the thing in front of him.

It was humanoid in shape with long spidery limbs, the torso looking almost emaciated and the head shifting from either too small or too big. It glowed, its body made up of golden light that could only be magic. As he watched, they solidified, looking more human, features appearing on its face, eyes a blazing blue that was almost white.

 _‘What are you?’_ Merlin stared at the thing, speechless.

 _.:I am what you would call a creature of magic. Something from the old religion. I was alive when the world was born and I will see it returned to darkness. Merlin, I am magic.:._

Merlin shivered at his words. He could feel their weight, could see the thousands of years this thing had lived, shining through in his eyes. Wanting to change the subject, he looked around, taking in the cave they stood in. _‘Where is this?’_

 _.:Nowhere physical. It is more along the lines of a memory, of when I last appeared in the human world, over twenty years ago.:._ He shifted and a throne of stone appeared behind him, allowing the thing of magic to take a seat. Merlin looked over his shoulder and saw a similar one had appeared as well. He sat gingerly, wary of what the thing might do.

 _‘You…said I was dying…’_

 _.:I can show you.:._ he cut in, sitting forward. Merlin nodded and Emrys raised his arm, fingers pulsing brightly, and an image appeared in the air between them. _.:You do not have much time to live, Merlin.:._

Merlin stared at the image of himself. They appeared to have moved him to his own room, though the clutter had been shifted around for a chair and bucket of water to be brought in. Gwaine was seated beside him at the moment, hands steady as he brushed a damp cloth over Merlin’s flushed and sweating face.

He could feel something forming inside him, some feeling gradually rising to the surface as he waited, breathe bated as he watched, unable to feel the cloth on his skin. The wave of panic, when it rose over him and flooded his mind, was so unexpected that he just sat there staring dumbly as his thoughts went in circles. A small part of his mind still able to be heard over the clamor of his thoughts noted that he had been in denial this whole time, unable to accept the idea that he was dying.

 _‘NO!’_ He was shaking now, his throat constricting as fear clawed up it. _‘This can’t be right. I have a destiny. I’m supposed to help Arthur stay alive long enough to take the throne, not die before it happens. This…this is a lie.’_ Heat prickled behind his eyes and he watched in horror as tears slowly slid down his cheeks in the image, Gwaine jumping in alarm, calling out to Gaius.

 _.:Destiny is never a sure thing, Merlin. It is only a possible future, that many wish to come true.:._ Merlin turned away from the pity in those eyes.

Squaring his shoulders, he turned back. _‘You said you could…heal me. How?’_ he asked, clutching at the arms of the throne beneath his hands, fingers aching with the strain and knuckles turned white.

 _.:From the moment you were born, you were the main consciousness in this body. You controlled nearly everything, even the magic that flows through your veins, though it was mostly unconsciously since you were untaught.:._ Emrys stood. _.:You have yet to notice it.:._ He held his hand up again, walking forward.

Merlin jumped as his hand came into contact with some sort of barrier, ripples of light racing away from the point of contact only to fade away into the shadows that surrounded them. _.:There has always been a barrier between us and must always be between us. In order for me to heal you, you will have to trade places with me, willingly allow me to take over long enough to take full control of my magic and heal you. I swear to return you back into control once you are healed. Will you do this?:._

 _‘Why are you willing to do this?’_ Merlin had stood as well, staring at the thing before him, warily taking a step forward until only a few feet separated them.

 _.:If you die, I have no vessel to hold me and then I will be unable to fulfill my purpose, the reason I was summoned.:._

 _‘And that is?’_ He held his breath, waiting for his answer.

 _.:To ensure that there is a future for magic.:._

 _‘I…all right. How are we supposed to…well, you know?’_ He waved his hand back and forth, unsure what to call this deal he had just agreed to.

 _.:You must start. Place your hand upon the barrier and as you push, I will push as well. We will switch.:._

 _‘Will it hurt?’_ he asked, wanting to be sure.

 _.:I don’t know. I have never done this before.:._

 _‘All right, here goes.’_ Merlin pressed his hand to the barrier that separated them. He could see it now, up close. It was thin, like a bubble, but he could feel it and it felt more like a brick wall. How was he supposed to push through it? Sucking in a hasty breath, he pushed and stared in surprise as his hand slowly sank into it. It felt like he was trying to get his hand to pass through lightly packed sand, though it was more liquid than solid. It took some effort, but he was able to move.

Slowly, his fingers passed through, wiggling on the other side, and he turned to watch Emrys as his fingers slowly pushed through as well. The ripples of light that were coming off their points of contact were hitting each other and flaring brightly before fading, leaving spots of light behind as afterimages on his eyes.

It was a grueling process, his arms slowly working through, and his shoulder. He couldn’t help the instinct to hold his breath as his head started to pass through, eyes screwed shut as whatever the barrier was made of passed over him, and then he was half way through. The rest came more easily, as if his head passing through was some signal for it to go faster.

He collapsed to the floor; breathing as though he had just run a mile through the woods. His limbs felt like they were made of water, shaking and refusing to support him. He looked up to see Emrys standing tall, stretching and testing his limbs like he had just woken up and was full of energy.

 _.:I will be back soon.:._ He disappeared in a flash and Merlin was left feeling hollow.

~*~

 

Gwaine stared at Merlin as the light faded outside. Five days had already gone by with no improvement in Merlin’s condition. Arthur had been by once since then, though it had been to see Gaius about a wound sustained during training. Merlin had still been on Gaius’s cot. Between the two knights, they had hauled him up to his own room so Gaius could have his bed back. Gwaine had left Arthur alone in the room, instead helping Gaius tidy up.

Arthur had come down with a grim look on his face and left without a word spoken. It had been two days since then and he had not returned. He and Gaius had shooed Gwen away as it started to grow dark, the poor girl drooping with fatigue and dark emotions, the day spent running errands for Gaius as he tended Merlin.

Sitting back, he stretched. It had been sometime since Gwaine had called Gaius up the stairs, unsure what to make of the tears rolling down Merlin’s cheeks in his unconscious state. They had stopped almost as soon as Gaius had arrived and none of Gaius’s books could explain why he was shedding tears.

There was a light tap at the door and Gaius walked in, the wrinkles on his face even more deeply engraved then they used to be. “I have some dinner ready if you’re hungry.” he announced, looking at Merlin.

Nodding, Gwaine stood to follow him out. They both stopped as Merlin let out a loud groan. Spinning around, Gwaine was at the man’s side before he could even think about. Merlin’s eyes were still closed, but behind his pale lids, his eyes were moving frantically, seeming caught in some nightmare. His fingers twitched, clutching at blanket covering him and releasing it.

“Merlin…Merlin can you hear me?” Gwaine asked softly, reaching out to touch his shoulder.

Merlin’s whole body went taut, his back arching off the bed like a bow, chest heaving as he fought for breath. They were both frozen as Merlin’s eyes snapped open, completely golden, no iris or pupil visible under the glow.

Gwaine reacted on instinct, reaching out to hold him as he turned over onto his stomach and retched, all that was in his stomach emptying into the conveniently placed bucket of cool water. He continued to dry heave for a few seconds and then went limp, all energy spent.

For a second, the room was still, the only sound Merlin’s heavy breathing. Finally, Gwaine moved, rolling Merlin back over onto his back. He was unconscious again, eyes closed and golden glow gone. Tucking him back in, Gwaine sat back down, still in shock at what had just happened. “Gaius…”

“Not here, let him rest.” The older man left, forcing Gwaine to stand and follow back downstairs. Gaius walked to the main doors as Gwaine stood next to his work table. Opening it, he glanced around the corridor, then shut and locked it before turning back to face the knight.

“Gaius, that was magic.” he stated simply, going for the obvious in hopes that it would get the old man talking.

“I know that was magic.” Gaius sounded resigned.

“So Merlin is…”

“Yes.” He gave a great heaving sigh and sat down on a conveniently placed bench. “Yes, Merlin is a warlock. He was born with magic, I don’t know how.”

“How long have you known?” the knight asked, sitting opposite him on the other bench.

“Since he first arrived. Saved my life when I was startled and fell down from there.” He pointed to his bookshelves second level. “I’ve kept him out of trouble as much as I could and been his guide when he needed one.” It seemed once he started talking, he found it hard to stop.

“Back there, what happened?”

“I think Merlin’s magic finally kicked in and purged the venom from his body the only way it could. I believe he is resting now and should recover, hopefully.” He seemed unsure of his last statement, but Gwaine refrained from questioning his words.

“Does Arthur know?” he finally asked, getting to the one thing that was buzzing in his mind, wanting an answer to it. _Did Merlin trust Arthur enough to tell him, knowing who his father was?_

Gaius shook his head. “He wanted to tell him. Never liked keeping secrets to begin with…but things have always gotten in the way and with what happened so recently…”

“You mean Morgana’s betrayal and use of magic.”

“Yes, it would be the wrong time. I fear if Merlin were to tell him now, he would see it as nothing but another sorcerer betraying him and react badly.” Gwaine nodded in understanding. “The only others who know are Lancelot and Kilgharrah, the Great Dragon.”

Gwaine’s eyebrow shot up in a close imitation of Gaius’s at the mention of the dragon. He had heard tales about the dragon’s attack on Camelot and how the prince had struck it a mortal blow, or so they had been told. It appeared not.

Gaius looked a little embarrassed at having revealed so much, but forged on. “Merlin’s father, Balinor, was a Dragonlord. When he died shortly after meeting Merlin, his powers were passed on. Arthur had been knocked unconscious and Merlin forced the dragon to take an oath to never attack Camelot ever again on pain of death.”

The memory of them talking about their fathers jumped into his head and he looked on it with a whole new perspective. It struck him then, that there were so many things that Merlin had kept hidden from everyone, not just his magic. “I won’t say anything, Gaius. Merlin deserves the right to pick when he will tell everyone what he is.” Gaius just nodded, a relieved look on his face.

~*~

 _‘Emrys…’_ Merlin stared at the haggard-looking being. His shoulders were drooping, the glow he gave off substantially dimmed, and even flickering in some places.

 _.:I am unharmed, young one. I underestimated the strength of the Attor’s magic. I just need rest.:._ He stopped inches from the barrier. _.:And like I promised, I have come back to take my place.:._ He started to push against the barrier and Merlin quickly did the same.

The effect it had on him was the opposite from before. Instead of feeling drained, he felt like his blood was on fire, magic roiling through his veins, making him feel near-invincible. _‘Are you sure you will be all right? You don’t look so well.’_

 _.:I will be fine. I just need to regain my strength. It was worth it. You will live, though it will take time to recuperate from this ordeal. And…:._ He stopped, hesitating over his words.

 _‘What?’_ He hoped it wasn’t bad.

 _.:I had to…change you slightly, to heal you. Your body was already severely damaged by the creature’s venom and would not be able to support you should I heal you in a more conventional way.:._

 _‘Emrys, what did you do?’_

 _.:Your body is no longer fully human. I had to infuse some of myself with your body to heal you.:._

 _‘What does that mean?’_ He could feel panic forming again.

 _.:The biggest change is that you will no longer require sleep, though you can still try. You will need less food as well; your body will start to live off of the natural magic around you and in you.:._ He looked somewhat guilty, though it was hard to make it out on his face, since he had no identifying features with which to convey emotions easily.

 _‘I…I guess that’s all right. It could have been worse.’_ He stood there for a moment, taking it in. This could be of some use, allowing him to keep a better eye on Arthur now that he didn’t need to sleep. _‘Thank you…Emrys.’_ He smiled hesitantly at the magical being that stood in front of him.

Nodding in return, Emrys allowed Merlin to fade out until he stood alone in the cave. _.:Do not thank me so soon, young warlock. It has already begun and you will forget this ever happened.:._ Holding his hand up, he held it over the small pin prick in the barrier, feeling the piece of himself that had been left on the other side.

~*~

 

When he woke, the light coming through his window was dim and fading fast. He was alone for the moment, the only things in the room besides his own things an unlit candle and a cup of water. He lifted his hand, reaching out for the cup and was surprised at how much his hand was shaking from just that small effort.

As his fingers closed around the cup, his hand spasmed and it slipped from his fingers, tipping over and falling to the floor. It froze for a second in midair as his magic flared in reflex. He started to reach for it and time snapped back into place as a wave of dizziness washed over him, leaving him sweating and gasping for breath, hand still reaching out as the cup continued to fall to the floor and rolled away, spilling the water.

He didn’t lift his head as the stairs to his room creaked underneath the weight of whoever was coming up. The door opened with a creak and Gwaine stepped through. He took one look at Merlin, awake and listing off the edge of his small bed and went into action.

Strong hands gripped his arms and turned him over. An arm went behind his back as the other shifted his pillow behind him and he was pulled into a half-seated position. Grinning briefly down at him, Gwaine dipped down, scooped the fallen cup from the floor and set it on the table again.

“Gwaine.” His voice croaked as the words tumbled clumsily over his tongue and he couldn’t help but lick his dry lips.

“Hang on.” Gwaine walked back out quickly again. The stairs creaked and fell silent only to herald his return as he hurried back up the steps. He shut the door quietly, pitcher of water in hand and filled Merlin’s cup again. Setting it aside, Gwaine sat on the edge of Merlin’s bed, helping him hold the cup as he drank, gulping the cool blessed fluid as it soothed his parched throat and cracked lips.

He let out a content gasp as he finished, Gwaine setting the cup back down and moving to the stool next to the bed. “How long have I been out?” he finally asked, blinking drowsily up at the knight.

“Six days, though you only started to get better on the last day. You had us all worried there. Everyone’s been frantic trying to get you better.” His easy smile slid over his face smoothly, but it didn’t look exactly right, like Gwaine was hiding something.

“What’s wrong?” he demanded.

Gwaine gave a soft sigh. “We…none of us were sure you would make it. Uther…forced Arthur to get a new manservant.” The room was silent at his words. “You’re out of a job, Merlin,” he said softly, but Merlin could see the anger in his eyes, most of it at Uther, but some directed at Arthur.

“Gwaine, don’t blame him. He had no say in this.”

“You always defend him, to the last.” He gave another sigh, but smiled, this one genuine as he looked at the warlock. “It’s good to see you awake.”

“It’s good to be awake. Where’s Gaius?”

“Delivering Uther his nightly potion. I said I would do it, but the old man refused, said I was to keep watch over you. I’m glad he did though.”

“Oh, that’s good. I think…I remember somewhat, hearing you talking nearby. How long have you been watching over me?” he asked.

Gwaine didn’t even bat an eyelash as he answered. “Since the beginning.”

“What! Why?” he asked, shifting to get more comfortable.

“Because I wanted to. And for Arthur as well. He’s been worried about you, but unable to come because of Uther. I’ve been updating him every day at training.”

They both turned to look at the door at the sound of the main door opening, Gwen’s voice floated up to them. “Gwaine.”

He held a finger to his lips to Merlin, winking at him with an easy grin on his lips. “Up here.” He called out.

They waited, listening to her steps coming closer, the stairs sounding as she ascended them. “Do you know…” Her voice trailed off as she stepped through the door and saw Merlin sitting up in bed. Her eyes grew wide; a small gasp came out as a sort of squawk of surprise. “Merlin?”

“Hey, Gwen,” he said softly, smiling at her.

“Oh, you’re awake!” she cried out joyfully, flinging herself at him, hugging him tightly, shoulders shaking slightly as she cried into his shirt.

“Hey, hey, Gwen, it’s all right. Please, stop crying, you’re gonna make me cry too,” he joked and she pulled back, sniffing, with a big smile on her face, wiping uselessly at her leaking eyes. Her eyes were red and there were some shadows under her eyes, but she looked good.

“Oh, this is such good news. I should go tell Arthur. He’ll want to know that you’re awake.” She stood, smiling brightly at them and left in a hurry, the bearer of good news for once.

“Gwaine…thank you, for staying with me,” he said as her steps faded and it was just the two of them once more.

“I should probably tell you now, before anyone else decides to come barging in. Near the end, before you started to get better…ah, how should I put this…I was there when you…healed yourself,” he finally spat out what he wanted to say.

Merlin could feel his heart beat pick up, stuttering a little in its haste to pound out of his chest. “Oh.”

“Now just listen to me. I’ve already talked with Gaius; he was there as well, and I swear I won’t tell a soul, Merlin. Besides, I want to see the look on the princess’s face when he finally finds out,” he joked, trying to calm Merlin.

“Oh…um…” Merlin gave a soft laugh. “That’s good. Thank you, again. I’m sorry I never said. It’s just…”

“No need to explain. I can understand why. I just want you to know…” Gwaine leaned down, looking Merlin in the eye. “…if you ever need someone to talk to, I’m there. And so are Gaius, and Lancelot and so I hear, a dragon as well.” He arched a brow at him.

“Just how much has Gaius told you?” Merlin complained, a large grin on his face.

~*~

By the time Gaius returned, Merlin had fallen asleep again, the candle in his room burning low and sending flickering shadows over him as he slept peacefully on his bed. Gwaine waited until the older man had shut the door before giving the news.

“He woke up.” he said softly, nodding towards the gap in Merlin’s door from which the light of the candle was escaping into the shadowed stairwell. The fire in the main room burned low, needing more fuel.

“He did?” Gaius looked relieved, taking a step towards the room.

Gwaine shook his head. “He’s sleeping now. Gwen came by just after he woke up. She went to tell Arthur, so I assume he should be coming here once night has settled in.” Gaius smiled, going about getting dinner ready for him and the knight who had taken up temporary residence in the rooms.

He was right about Arthur. No sooner had the midnight bell struck; there came a soft tap at Gaius’s door. Arthur opened it and slid in, wearing his dark wool cloak that would allow him to pass unnoticed in the dark hallways. Gwaine felt a small bubble of anger well up at the sight. That Arthur was forced to sneak around at night just to see Merlin was a disgrace.

“How is he?” he asked Gaius, stripping his cloak off.

“Sleeping peacefully at the moment. I was just about to wake him to see if he wanted to try to stomach some warm broth.” Arthur nodded, the tense set of his shoulders relaxing as relief washed through him. Gwaine could sympathize with the prince. Merlin was someone worth worrying over.

Gaius went up to wake him, Arthur following close behind. Gwaine stayed where he was seated, letting the prince talk with Merlin now that he was awake. Gaius soon came back down to get the bowl of broth that had been warming on the hearth.

“Make yourself useful.” He handed him the bowl. “I’ll be reading if you should need me.” Nodding to the physician, Gwaine carried the bowl up.

“…your job back.” Arthur was talking to the warlock, seated on the edge of the bed instead of the stool.

Smirking, Gwaine sauntered in. “And if he can’t get you your job back, you can always work for me. I certainly wouldn’t mind.” His smirk grew bigger as Arthur jumped, not having heard Gwaine come up the stairs. “Here, recommended by Gaius himself. Try and eat as much as you can.”

He set the warm bowl onto his lap and watched his long pale fingers curl around it, soaking in the warmth. “Thank you.” Merlin let it sit there instead, looking back up at the two knights crowded around his bed.

“Do you…remember…anything?” Arthur asked, looking like he was trying to be subtle and failing at it.

“I…remember hearing Gwaine and Gaius, their voices, but not what was said. It’s…just one big blur in my head. I feel like I’ve forgotten something, but I can’t figure out what,” he admitted with a wry grin.

“Well, you’re always forgetting to do what you’re told, so that’s to be expected.” Arthur replied with a haughty air, a smirk playing across his lips that shifted into a grin when Merlin just snorted in amusement.

“Prat,” he muttered.

“Well, he’s already a princess, so now princess prat,” Gwaine cut in, shoving Arthur in the shoulder.

“He’s supposed to be eating, not horsing around up there,” Gaius called out, voice amused.

Looking somewhat chastised, they quieted down. Smiling, Merlin picked up the spoon. By the time it reached his mouth, only a little of the broth was left on the spoon as his hand shook, sloshing it over the edge back into the bowl and a little on his shirt.

Sighing, Arthur snatched the bowl and spoon away from him. “You really are useless sometimes.” Getting more on the spoon, he held it out to Merlin. “Eat,” he ordered when Merlin kept his mouth closed.

“I can-” He didn’t get to finish as Arthur shoved the spoon between his lips and tipping it, letting the warm broth flow into his mouth before retracting the spoon. Merlin glared and swallowed quickly before trying to speak again. “I can feed myself. I’m not a child,” he groused, crossing his arms in annoyance.

“Please, you can barely hold it, let alone feed yourself. Now open up.” He held up another spoonful.

“Gwaine, tell him I can do it myself,” he appealed to the other knight, ignoring the spoon that was hovering in the air.

“You heard the princess, eat up.” He laughed, at both of them as they glared at him, for different things.

Huffing angrily, he opened his mouth, arms still crossed. This went on for some time until Merlin could eat no more and pushed the spoon away, shaking his head. As if summoned, Gaius appeared in the door. “Enough. He needs to sleep.” He started to shoo the two out, ignoring Gwaine’s protests. “You can come back tomorrow.” He pointed at Gwaine, “You will go back to your rooms for once. I think I can handle taking care of him for one night.”

“Night,” Merlin called after them, already sinking back onto his pillows, eyes drooping from being awake so long. He was out before the sound of the main door closing floated up to his room.

~*~

 

“Merlin!” He looked up from filling the bucket of water to see Gwaine striding over, grinning. The knight slowed to a stop beside him. “How are you feeling?” he asked.

“Good. Gaius always said I was a fast healer.” He hefted the bucket it, Gwaine falling into step with him. Fast was an understatement. Gaius had been staggered by the rapid healing his body had done over the last week. He’d never healed this fast before and he could only guess that his magic was working overtime to get him back into shape.

“Gwaine!” They looked up to see Leon standing on the other side of the courtyard, motioning to the knight.

“Well, got to go. The princess has been putting us through our paces lately. Wish me luck.” He winked at Merlin and sauntered off towards the senior knight. Waving at Leon in greeting, Merlin left, carrying the bucket Gaius had asked him to get, having deciding that now that Merlin was nearly back to normal, he could start doing work again.

Puffing out a breath, he set the bucket down for a second, catching his breath after the stairs. Shaking himself, he lifted it again and started off towards Gaius’ tower rooms. He was halfway there when he had to stop for breath again. He might have been on the mend, but it would still be some time before he got back his old stamina.

Standing there, he felt a wave of dizziness wash over him and braced himself against a nearby wall; eyes squeezed shut, fighting the urge to puke up his meager breakfast as a wave of nausea washed through him. For a sickening second, he felt like he was turned inside out, like he had no control over his body, disconnected and isolated from the world.

Then someone called his name and it was gone, leaving him blinking owlishly as Gwen called his name again, looking worried. He realized he was slightly hunched over, leaning heavily on the wall. Straightening with some difficulty, he grinned wanly at her, trying to show her he was fine. “I’m okay. Just a little dizzy for a second there.”

She only looked a little mollified by his words and grabbed the bucket of water when he reached for it. Sighing, he let her carry it for him as they finished the trek to Gaius’s rooms. He was glad she had by the time they reached the top of the last stair case. He was sweating and panting for breath as they walked for the doors.

Opening them, they both froze on the threshold as Uther turned from Gaius to see at who had entered. “Sire,” they said softly, bowing their heads to the king, Gwen curtsying clumsily with her hands occupied with holding the bucket.

The king looked slightly haggard; his short gray hair lank and mussed as if he had run his hands through it repeatedly. There were dark shadows under his eyes that spoke of many sleepless nights.

He nodded for them to continue what they had been doing. Taking the bucket from Gwen, Merlin whispered to her, “I’ll see you later.” She nodded, handing it over, and with one last curtsy to Uther, left the rooms, shutting the door quietly.

Uther walked over to him, looking him up and down. “I have yet to thank you for saving my son’s life again. This kingdom has suffered so much recently that if he had been struck down, it would have wreaked havoc on this land.”

“I-I was just doing my duty, Sire,” he said, still keeping his head bowed slightly.

“My son favours you highly.” The words were bland, but Merlin could feel his piercing gaze on him, analyzing his every move and word.

“I had not expected him to act so for the likes of me,” he mumbled, hoping he sounded sincere.

“Hmm, I suppose that is true.” Seeming satisfied, he turned back to Gaius. “I will finish this discussion later.” They both bowed as he left; letting out an uneasy breath once he was gone.

“Well, that went well.” Gaius finally said.

Laughing shakily, Merlin nodded, carrying the bucket over to where Gaius pointed. “Well, since you’ve nothing else to do at the moment, I might as well start to teach you properly.” Merlin gave a groan as Gaius set a dusty tome onto the table with a heavy thump. He had to fight a sneeze as dust went everywhere. “We’ll start with anatomy.” He motioned to the seat next to him on the bench and with a sigh Merlin sat down next to him as Gaius opened the book and started to talk.

~*~

Merlin blinked owlishly at the candle next to him, trying to clear the blurriness from his eyes. Outside, the sun had already sunk below the horizon; leaving only the smallest streaks of color that were rapidly fading.

Inside, the royal library was dim, only the candles and torches, kept well away from the books, gave any sort of illumination. Sighing, Merlin pushed his chair back and stretched. He had been here all afternoon, reading what Gaius had assigned him. It seemed Gaius had been serious when he spoke of teaching Merlin his trade.

He’d already known the basics: treating wounds, broken bones, tending bumps, bruises, and any other ways that a body could get damaged. After his first year here, Gaius had sat him down every night for a week to instill this knowledge into his head so he could be of use to Arthur and the knights when Gaius wasn’t there.

Now, it seemed Gaius was trying to teach him to four years’ worth of studying, had he stayed Gaius’s apprentice instead of becoming Arthur’s manservant, and cramming it into the space of a few weeks.

Merlin’s mind was literally buzzing with random snippets of script and words, bouncing off each other and the edges of his skull. Rubbing at his eyes tiredly, he shut the book, putting the ribbon bookmark into it to mark his page and stood. Lifting the heavy tome off the table, he leaned over and blew the candle’s flame out, darkness descending, though light still leaked around the bookshelf’s edges.

Shuffling around, he made his way into the main corridor of the library. It was silent except for Geoffrey, who sat at his desk, quill in hand as he scribbled down notes in a rushed flourish that looked like squiggles rather than words. Nodding good night to the older man, he slipped out of the library.

The halls were mostly empty as the castle settled in for the night. Most of the servants were down in the kitchen at the moment, getting a late supper as they prepared to retire for the night since they had an early morning.

A few guards nodded to him as he passed, but for the most part, he was alone in the dim corridors of stone, nothing but his thoughts to keep him company as he traveled from one side of the castle to the other.

He could feel his mind wander to distant thoughts, body moving automatically in the general direction of Gaius’ rooms. He hoped Gaius had already eaten. He’d been trying to hide his lack of appetite lately, but it was getting harder. It was like his body could only stand so much food before it started to reject it. There had been a couple times when he’d had to force the food to keep from coming back up. That on top of his newly acquired insomnia had him worried.

He should have burnt out by now; the lack of sleep and food should have shown some sign on his body. Yet each morning he felt fine, full of energy and wide awake as though he had slept the night through and eaten a full breakfast.

He blinked and came to a stop, looking around. He didn’t remember walking all the way to the stairs at the base of the tower and yet here he was. He tried to recall the route he had taken and came up blank. It was like his mind had been somewhere else and his body had just taken over.

Shivering, he tugged his jacket more firmly around his torso and started up the stairs, his shoulders hunched as the feeling of someone watching him washed over him. With a grateful sigh, he shut the door behind him, welcoming the warmth of the fire coming from the hearth, even if it was accompanied by a horrendous smell that seemed to originate from a cauldron warming in the fire.

“What _is_ that smell?” he groused, covering his nose with his hand.

Gaius ignored the theatrics, standing up and giving it a stir before turning to look at him. Grinning behind his hand, he made a beeline for his room, wanting to set the book under his arm down before facing whatever it was Gaius needed him to do. The moment in the corridor was forgotten, shoved to the back of his mind as more pressing matters crowded his mind, mainly whether he would ever be able to get the smell off of his clothes.

“I need you to deliver this to Arthur. The prince had mentioned earlier that he was having trouble sleeping due to muscle cramps.” Not surprising, the idiot. He and Gaius had been spending a lot of time in the training field, tending to wounded knights as Arthur drove them hard. The fact that Arthur faced every knight personally and never let up even as the day wore on was bound to leave him with some sore muscles.

Nodding, Merlin picked up the small glass vial and pocketed it and quickly left before the physician had him doing anything else. The back halls he took were deserted as he took a familiar path up to Arthur’s chambers.

He hadn’t been this way for almost two weeks now and it felt odd to be coming this way now. Arthur hadn’t been able to persuade Uther to relent in his decision to force Arthur to hire a new manservant. The fact that Gaius had put in his word about wanting Merlin to teach him his trade proper hadn’t helped either. Of course not much had changed. He still mostly followed Arthur around the training field, though now he wasn’t forced to do Arthur’s chores.

He knocked lightly on the door and the sound of voices inside quieted as footsteps approached the door. It opened and he looked in to see Lancelot standing there, smiling at Merlin. He held the door open for Merlin to walk through and he saw the others seated around Arthur’s table, Arthur himself standing by the fire place.

“Ah, Merlin, was wondering when you’d get here.” Gwaine called, holding up his goblet to him. As Merlin stepped through, Lancelot shut the door behind him.

“What?” He was confused.

“I guess Gaius didn’t tell you. Arthur asked him to send you here on some pretense so we could all get together.” Lancelot said quietly, smiling at his friend.

“Oh.” was his eloquent answer.

“Where’ve you been all day? Been trying to find you,” Gwaine asked aloud as Merlin took a step over towards the gathered knights. Elyan and Percival nodded to him, though the former blacksmith elbowed Gwaine in the side when he tried to lean on him. Leon smiled a little, scooting his chair over so Merlin could get one of the two empty chairs left.

“You’re drunk,” he stated baldy, looking at the slight flush on Gwaine’s cheeks.

“A little, though not nearly enough. The princess here has got some good stuff.” He took another draught from his cup before Arthur got fed up and snatched it away, sending the knight a warning look.

“So why have I been brought here under false pretenses?” he asked, looking around at the knights.

“Rumors.” Percival said softly.

Merlin felt his heart speed up a little. “Rumors about what?”

“Morgana.” Arthur finally spoke up, stepping away from the fire to stand at the head of the table. He looked tired, his lips pressed in a thin line. There were dark shadows under his eyes.

“There have been rumors that Morgana was seen in Cenred’s kingdom. We don’t know if they’re true, but we need to make sure.” Merlin clenched his fists under the table remembering his last glimpse of Arthur’s half-sister, with chunks of stone and mortar raining down on him, her magic out of control in her rage and grief.

“You want to know if she’s up to something,” he finally spoke, looking at Arthur.

He nodded. “I’m sending Percival and Lancelot to scout out what is left of Cenred’s court and to see if the rumors are true.”

“Why bring me into this then? Surely there isn’t anything I can do to help that isn’t already being done,” he asked, looking around. It was true. He wasn’t a warrior like them, or a true scholar like Gaius who knew things that would be useful. He did have his magic, but only two of the people in the room knew of it, and at the moment, he could barely light a candle, let alone do any amazing feats of magic. It seemed his magic was a distant thing until he finished healing.

“You are just as involved with this as everyone else.” Arthur intoned, looking down at him with a serious expression. Merlin couldn’t help but remember that night at the round table, pledging himself to Arthur along with the others. He nodded his understanding.

He turned to Lancelot. “Do Gaius and Gwen know?”

“They both know. Gaius is packing a kit for us and a letter to an old friend in Cenred’s court that will get us into the court. Gwen is getting us some simpler clothing that will let us blend with the people.”

“When are you leaving?” he asked, looking around the table at the others, stopping briefly on each.

“Tomorrow.”

“Oh…well…” He trailed off, not sure what to say. Was he supposed to say goodbye now to his friends, or wish them luck, bid them safe passage? Before, he’d always gone along on something like this, since Arthur had always gone along. Except, Arthur had to be more careful now. It was obvious the Uther wouldn’t live for much longer. He had seen what Gaius prepared for Uther every night, the potion meant to boost energy, even as the body lagged. He’d seen use it on Arthur when they had snuck into Camelot after losing the Cup of Life.

“Gaius said he had somewhere to be tomorrow. Could you bring the pack down when we leave?” Lancelot asked, seeing his awkward pause for what it was.

“Of course.” He nodded; glad to have something to do to help. Arthur might have said he was just as involved, but just like Arthur, he liked to have something to do instead of just waiting around.

The two knights in question stood, Percival towering over them, his smile easy. “Good night,” he said softly.

“I will see you two off before you leave.” Arthur said to the departing knights. They nodded, half-bowing as they left, the door shutting quietly behind them.

“I need to get going. My watch is coming up.” Elyan stood, stretching his arms over his head. Nodding to Arthur then the others, he too left, leaving the four of them in silence.

Arthur turned back to them; face still pinched under the stress of his thoughts, most definitely centered around Morgana. “You should go get some sleep. Leon, I must speak with you further.”

Merlin stood, mind elsewhere for a second. As Gwaine followed, his foot caught on the leg of the table and he staggered. Merlin caught him, staggering under his weight as the knight swayed slightly. “I thought you said you weren’t that drunk?” he asked with a puff of breath.

“I said ‘not nearly enough’; there’s a difference,” he answered good-naturedly, laughing softly as his balance threatened to go.

“I’ll help our local drunk to his rooms,” he joked as he helped the inebriated knight from Arthur’s chambers, shutting the door with some difficulty since Gwaine’s feet kept getting in the way. Eventually, they made it through the door and some stone corridors later, they were walking up the stairs to the wing of the castle that housed all of Camelot’s knights.

Struggling to keep stay upright, they swayed down the corridor, stopping before Gwaine’s door. Opening it, he maneuvered them through, shutting it awkwardly behind them as it shut louder than he intended, sending a dull echo bouncing off stone walls.

The rooms weren’t big, certainly not as big as Arthur’s or Uther’s, but they were spacious. They were certainly larger than Merlin’s little storeroom-turned-bedroom. Gwaine’s room alone could hold a little over two of Merlin’s and he was a ‘new’ knight, even if they thought him common. Leon’s rooms, as a noble and just below Arthur in the chain of command, were even bigger.

Gwaine took a step away and his feet seemed to trip on air, pitching him into Merlin. Merlin barely caught him in time, the two of them falling backwards to hit the wall next to the door with a solid thump that knocked the wind from their lungs momentarily.

Trying to move Gwaine, who had him crowded against the stone wall, Merlin froze as he felt a hand slide under his jacket. He would have shrugged it off as Gwaine not knowing any better, being in the state he was in, but the purposeful and steady movement belied that thought and the fact that, though Gwaine was drunk, he had seen him even worse than this and still fight with his sword with ease, if with a little more of a stagger.

“Gwaine…” He didn’t get to finish his sentence as warm lips pressed against his, the hand now moving up to press into his lower back, bringing him closer than before. For a second his mind was split, one part in the here and now, and the other part to weeks ago, feeling a hand under his jacket and burning pain as Arthur held him up.

With a wrench, he pulled back, his head striking the wall behind him with a thump. It hurt and made his head throb, but it drove out the mixed feelings he had been feeling, clearing his mind of all else but the sharp, clean pain.

He heard Gwaine sigh heavily, head bowing to rest against his shoulder. “Sorry…” he muttered softly. “Didn’t mean for that…” he didn’t finish, starting to pull away.

With difficulty, Merlin unclenched his fingers from Gwaine’s tunic, having just realized he was holding onto it for dear life, and wrapped his arm around his shoulders, keeping him in place. He could feel the taut pull of his shoulders as he waited for Merlin to turn him down gently.

“I’m sorry…”

“Don’t,” he bit out hoarsely.

“If you’ll let me finish.” He waited and then continued. “It…” At this he flushed slightly. “It wasn’t you or the…erm…kiss. It just brought back memories, from before.” Gwaine looked up slightly, confused. Merlin grabbed his hand, guiding it to his side where two dots of puckered scar tissue lay hidden beneath the cloth of his shirt.

“Oh,” he finally said.

“Yeah.” Merlin nodded, feeling the flush on his cheeks creep lower down his throat at Gwaine’s assessing look.

“Can I see it?” he finally asked.

“I…yes.” He finally answered. Gwaine pushed away from the wall, gripping his arm and pulling him towards his bed. It was made and turned down already, the fire in the hearth blazing cheerfully. He pushed Merlin down to sit on the bed, his scarred back facing the fire, giving light to see by.

He started to pull off the jacket and Merlin let him, laying the jacket beside Merlin on the bed. The thin strip of leather he used for a belt soon followed, Merlin doing this as Gwaine stood to toe his boots off. Merlin went to take his tunic off, but Gwaine stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. Kneeling down next to Merlin, Gwaine lowered his head until it was level with Merlin’s lower back.

Gentle fingers tugged the cloth up, revealing pale skin and scar tissue. He jerked a little as Gwaine’s fingers touched the marks. He knew what they looked like. If he twisted just right, he could see them, still slightly red, and raised from the rest of his smooth flesh.

“Does it still hurt?” Gwaine asked and his breath brushed against Merlin’s back, making him shiver slightly.

“Not anymore. Gaius thinks there might have been some damage there since it didn’t hurt, but I didn’t really care.” He jumped as soft fingers ran over them.

“You can feel that,” Gwaine mused aloud, and Merlin had to fight from squirming as he ran his bearded cheek against it, feeling his blush returning. He choked on a squawk when something hot and moist brushed over his skin and he realized it was Gwaine’s tongue. He pulled back, allowing the tunic to go back down. “You can inform Gaius that there is no damage there besides some scar tissue,” he told the warlock, smirking when Merlin sent him a withering glare, his cheeks still red from embarrassment and a little arousal.

“I’m going to bed,” he declared, snatching his jacket off the bed and marching away. “See if I help you back to your rooms again,” he muttered and ignored the deep chuckle from behind him as he closed the door.

Back in the tower, he avoided Gaius’s gaze, only grunting a yes when Gaius asked him to deliver the package Arthur had mentioned to Lancelot and Percival in the morning. In his room, his mind ran in circles the whole night, cursing his insomnia and reliving the moment in Gwaine’s room again and again. He stubbornly ignored the flush creeping over his skin and the warmth pooling in his abdomen.


	4. Part 3

**_ Part 3. _ **

Morning came creeping slowly over the horizon and spilled through Merlin’s slightly opened window. He lay stretched out on his bed, already dressed for the day and wide awake. Sighing, he sat up, legs draped over the edge of the bed. Merlin bent down, tugging his boots closer and stuffing his stockinged feet into the worn leather boots, wiggling his toes to set them properly, then stood, stretching the kinks from his back.

Gaius’s cot was empty, the old man nowhere to be found in the room. His satchel and cloak were already gone, giving evidence to his early departure. Merlin had to admit, Gaius could be stealthy when he wanted to. Merlin hadn’t even heard the old man leave this morning, and he’d been awake all night.

Gulping a cup of water, he left, grabbing the pack Gaius had left by the door, ignoring the plate of bread and fruit that had been left out by Gaius. He wasn’t hungry, hadn’t been since he had forced down a bowl of thin stew at lunch the other day under Gaius’s assessing stare.

The halls were as empty this morning as they had been last night on his way back, the castle still waking up and only a few sleep-eyed servants venturing from their rooms. Taking the stairs two at a time on the way down, he walked briskly towards the main doors of the castle and the courtyard further on, and the royal stables just beyond.

Cursing as his foot slipped and made him stumble on the last landing, he windmilled his arms, caught himself on the corner of the wall, straightened himself and kept going. The courtyard was a little busier, the night guards leaving as the morning shift arrived to relieve them, flowing from their posts around the castle to the barracks on the west side of the castle.

There, waiting for him to arrive, were Percival and Lancelot, with their horses saddled and loaded. Seeing who else was with them, he hurried his steps as Arthur gave him an impatient look. Handing the package off to Percival to load onto his horse, he smiled at Lancelot, his friend looking tired still.

He jumped as a hand landed heavily on his shoulder, and looked behind to see Gwaine smirking at his start, eyebrow arched. He didn’t get a chance to give a retort as Gwen came jogging up, a bundle of cloth in her arms, rings under her eyes from her long night sewing the clothing.

“Here, it’s not much, but it should suffice and will pass closer inspection. You two won’t look like normal peasants, but you’re close enough to look like city laborers. If asked, you can say you’re headed for more work in Cenred’s kingdom,” she supplied, smiling tiredly as she handed them their disguises.

“We’ll keep them packed until we get to the border and change then.” Lancelot assured her, bowing over her hand in thanks and making her blush.

“However did you get their measurements so quickly?” Merlin asked, eyeing Percival’s tall, bulky stature.

“Oh, um…I just asked for something they already had and used those.” She flushed again. Smiling at them, she continued. “Good luck and come back soon.” The knights bowed to her and she left, hurrying into the castle.

“Sire,” they both said, bowing to Arthur in turn.

Arthur clasped them each by their arm, nodding in turn. “Good luck. I hope you bring back good news.” Nodding one last time to the rest gathered, the two mounted and wheeled their mounts around, setting off at a slow trot that carried them from the courtyard and into the city.

“Come, Merlin. Training is soon and I need you on the field since Gaius is gone for today.” Arthur said, starting to walk off.

Merlin glanced at Gwaine, feeling his cheeks heat again as memories from the night before flashed through his mind. “Go on, the princess doesn’t like to be kept waiting,” he shooed with an easy smile and a wink, sauntering off.

“Merlin!” Arthur yelled and he took off, racing to catch up with his prince.

~*~

With Gaius away, tending to those in the city as he did once a week, Merlin was alone on the training field, satchel open at his feet, cool tent just behind him as he waited for anyone with an injury to be sent his way.

So far no one had been hurt apart from their pride when Arthur dumped them on their arses. He was in top form, working them hard, trying to work off the worry he must be feeling from the rumors about Morgana.

Someone gave a yell and Merlin jerked his head up, looking for the source. Gwaine was on the ground, holding his arm as Leon leaned over him, taking a look. They seemed to be discussing something and then Leon was helping him up, pointing him towards Merlin.

Swallowing nervously, he walked into the tent, waiting for Gwaine to arrive. He didn’t have long to wait as the tent flap was brushed aside and Gwaine stood there, glaring at the bleeding cut on his arm.

It was long, but not deep; the blade had just grazed him as his chainmail sleeve had ridden up on a down swing. It had already stopped bleeding, a line of red following the curves of muscle on his arm down towards his fingers.

Merlin motioned towards the camp stool that was set in the middle of the tent, in the bar of light that cut through the center of the tent, allowing him to see. Picking up the water pitcher, he came forward, rag in hand and gently dabbed at the drying blood.

“You know, you’re supposed to dodge the sword, not let it cut you,” he commented softly, keeping his eyes focused on the knight’s arm to give himself an excuse for not looking him in the face. Gwaine laughed, his whole body jerking with it, and Merlin’s fingers slipped, digging a little into the wound, pulling a wince and a hiss from the man.

“Sorry.” He soothed the cloth over it, dipping it into the pitcher and wringing it out again, continuing to clean it. When he was finished, he picked up the roll of cloth he used for bandaging and quickly cut a strip with his belt knife, sheathing the blade afterwards. He wound it with enough pressure to keep the wound from reopening and bleeding again.

Turning away, he set about tidying up the table behind him, though it was already in order. “Um…about last night…”

He jumped when Gwaine’s hand curled around his shoulder and turned him, sword calloused fingers gripping his jaw, angling his head, and then Gwaine was kissing him. He felt the rag in his hands drop to the ground, his hands gripping at the chainmail covering Gwaine’s chest, uncaring that the metal links bit into his flesh as he held on to the knight.

He felt Gwaine’s lips twitch into a smirk, as his tongue swiped at the seam of his lips. Sighing, Merlin let him in, shuddering at the feeling of him, at the taste, like ripe fruit and mead and something undeniably Gwaine, and it made his mouth water and his heart thunder in his chest.

When Gwaine pulled back, he was left blinking dazedly up at him. Licking his lips, he could still taste him, the feel of him lingering. “What about last night?” he asked, voice a low rumble.

“Um…I’d forgotten what I wanted to ask,” Merlin admitted sheepishly, cheeks heating in embarrassment.

Merlin jerked back as Arthur yelled out from the training field. “Gwaine, it was just a scratch, stop slacking and get back out here!” Realizing how little there was hiding them from the others, just a thin piece of canvas stretched over some ropes; he tried to disentangle himself from Gwaine. The knight wasn’t making it easy, pulling him closer each time and kissing him again.

“Gwaine!” Arthur yelled again.

He gave a great heaving sigh. “The princess is calling me.” He looked at Merlin. “Will you meet me later?” he asked, looking hopeful.

“I…I don’t know…”

“Just for dinner. We haven’t had much time to just sit together and talk, and I want to know more about…” Not wanting to say it out loud, he wiggled his fingers in what he apparently thought was a magical gesture.

Merlin’s heart was beating faster than usual and he decided to take a chance. “All right. I’ll see you in your rooms.” Grinning like a little boy given his first sword, he leaned down one more time to steal a last kiss and walked out, yelling out for Arthur to “Be patient with the wounded!”

Merlin stared after him, still leaning on the edge of the table Gwaine had backed him up against. He daren’t move for fear his wobbly knees would give out on him. Taking a few minutes, he started to pull himself together, calming his heart and breath. Running a quick hand through his hair and splashing some water from the bucket on his face, he felt himself settle back into his old self.

Hoping he didn’t look like Gwaine and he had been up to something in the tent, he stepped out, going to lean against the fence and continue watching them train. If anyone noticed something off about him, none said anything.

~*~

Merlin blinked in surprise to find himself standing before Gwaine’s door. The last thing he remembered was talking with Gaius about his work in the city as they prepared a concoction together. That had been just around sunset, the physician having just returned.

Before he could start to worry, the door opened and Gwaine smiled out at him. He was dressed in his loose red shirt, the laces undone, and Merlin blushed as it gaped open, revealing a whole lot of the knight’s chest, the silver necklace he always wore shining in the torch light from the corridor. His brown breeches were the same ones he had worn earlier, covered in dust and grass stains. He’d removed his boots and was walking around in his stockings.

“There you are. I was wondering if you would come,” Gwaine joked, opening the door up wider to let Merlin pass through. Giving a little smile, he pushed the worry away and walked in, feeling Gwaine’s eyes follow him the whole way through the room.

His table was set for two, though there was no food yet. Just as he was about to ask what they were supposed to eat, there was a knock at the door. He walked over quickly and opened it. “Ah, thank you.” Someone spoke quietly outside. “No, that will be all.” He shut the door with a snap, one hand holding the covered tray with ease.

“Dinner is served,” he said aloud with a flourish, removing the cover in a swift tug, revealing two steaming plates on the tray. His grin was contagious and Merlin could do nothing but smile back, walking over to the table to take a seat as Gwaine set the plates down. Once seated, Gwaine moved to light the candles on the table, reaching for a taper. Smirking, Merlin let the magic in him flow, his eyes flashing gold. The candles flicked into life in an instant, startling the knight.

There was silence for a moment and Merlin felt his heart freeze, thinking he had overstepped his bounds and moved too quickly. Then Gwaine was laughing, his head thrown back in delight, and Merlin felt his shoulders relax.

Finally, Gwaine stopped, gasping for breath and wiping at running eyes. “Did…did you know that your eyes…glow?” he finally asked.

“Yeah. My mother told me once, when I was younger. I even did magic in front of a mirror once to see for myself.” He was grinning by now, relief sharp and sweet running through his veins.

Gwaine nodded and started to dig into his food. “So tell me, have you always been able to do magic?” The rest of the meal went by in a similar fashion, with Gwaine chucking question after question at the warlock and Merlin answering as best he could. Eventually, he ran out of topics to ask him and Merlin turned an evil grin on the knight and started to ask his own questions.

“What does your necklace mean?” Merlin finally asked, eyeing the silver pendent hanging on its fine silver chain, the plain golden ring hanging next to it, always together.

Something seemed to shift in the knight’s face, growing softer as his mind went to past things. “It was my mother’s, given to her by my father when he courted her. The ring was hers as well, her wedding ring.” Finally, he looked at the warlock. “Do you have anything of the like?”

Merlin shook his head. “My mother never married and I was born out of wedlock. I…I do have something of my father’s…He gave it to me…the day before he died.” He could feel his throat closing up, the old emotions rising from their half-buried state. Swallowing, he forced them away as best he could. “He carved it for me: a dragon.” He grinned, remembering the joy he had felt when he’d woken to find it on the log next to him, neck arched proudly and wings stretched as if at any moment, it would take off into flight.

“You miss him?” Gwaine asked, voice grave as he looked at the warlock.

He nodded, and spoke, voice scratchy. “I knew him for only a few days…” He gave a bitter laugh, “I thought him dead or long gone, and until Gaius finally told me of him the day we went to look for the Dragonlord…”

“The Dragonlord was your father.” Merlin nodded and clutched at the arms of his chair tightly, feeling heat prickle and pool behind his clenched eyes before spilling down his cheeks. He couldn’t see him, but he heard as Gwaine pushed his chair back, heavy steps rounding the table. Sword-calloused hands gripped his shoulders and turned him and he couldn’t stop the hitch in his breath as strong arms curved around his back, pulling him close.

He remained as silent as he could, his breath hitching every once in a while as tears soaked the knight’s tunic. Large, warm hands ran up and down his back, soothing him like nothing else had before. Finally, he pulled back with a sniff, wiping at his wet eyes and cheeks. “You’ve been holding that in for a while, haven’t you?” Gwaine asked softly, looking up at him from his kneeling position. Merlin nodded mutely, still trying to get his breathing under control.

“Sorry,” he finally muttered, running soft fingers over the wet spot on Gwaine’s shirt.

“There is no need to be sorry. I told you, I am always here if you need someone to talk to.” He brushed his thumbs under Merlin’s eyes, collecting stray tears that clung stubbornly to his eyelashes. Leaning up, he brushed a soft kiss on each eye and Merlin’s breath hitched for a different reason entirely.

Gwaine trailed kisses down his nose and over his cheek. One brushed over the hair at his temple, one the spot below his earlobe, down his jawline, up his chin and finally, stopped on his lips. It was just a gentle press of lips, meant to comfort, but Merlin wanted more. To feel what he’d felt in the tent earlier today.

He opened his lips slightly and Gwaine complied, pressing in, licking into his mouth as if he had done this for months and knew everything Merlin wanted. Merlin’s hands moved of their own accord, reaching for cloth, clutching at it desperately, his thumbs brushing skin, feeling the heat radiating off of the knight.

They pulled apart, the need for air overpowering them for a moment. Merlin could only stare and pant as he took in the pure want on Gwaine’s face. Shivering, he let his hands unclench from the cloth and for a brief moment, something shifted across the knight’s face, too fast for Merlin to tell what it was. But he didn’t care, just let his arms wrap around this man’s neck and tug him closer, bending down for more of his addictive kisses.

Gwaine surged up and Merlin found himself standing, strong arms around his waist like steel bands, supporting him and holding him captive at the same time. They pulled apart again, breathing ragged. “Merlin?” he asked, and Merlin knew exactly what he was asking. _‘Are you sure you want this? Do you really want me?’_

“Yes,” he answered Gwaine, pressing as close as they could with layers of clothing between them. Things blurred slightly after that, with flashes of Gwaine’s mouth on him again as he herded them towards his bed, clothing falling off, leaving a clear trail of their route to it.

Gwaine was all around him, surrounding him. His scent as he breathed in deeply, nose pressed into the side of his neck. His taste as his pink tongue darted out to lick sweat off of his muscled shoulder. His sounds as he groaned deeply when he wrapped his long pale fingers around Gwaine’s hard flesh, stroking slowly, torturously, the noise vibrating into Merlin. The feel of skin on skin and the soft strands of his hair, the cool bite of his necklace that quickly warmed between them as they moved against each other.

And best of all, the sight of him, head thrown back, the tendons in his neck taut as he moved over him, heat spilling between their already sweaty bodies as they continued to rut against each other. Sight alone was enough to send him over as well, their seed mixing between them as they lay there panting, breathing each other’s air.

It was sometime later that they finally broke the silence that had fallen between them. It was comfortable, Merlin lying between Gwaine’s thighs, back to chest, using him as one big pillow. With his eyes closed, he listened to him breathe; to the sound of his heartbeat, the sound of his life.

The knight was drawing mindless symbols on his stomach, his other hand propped behind his head as he rested against the headboard. “Have you ever tried…you know, looking for Morgana?” he asked, softly.

Merlin tilted his head back a little, looking up at the knight. “Once, soon after she disappeared. I’d never been really good at it before, but even after a couple of tries, I couldn’t find her.” His brow creased. “She’s probably using magic to hide.” They fell silent again.

“Do you think she might be up to something?” Merlin remained silent and Gwaine shifted, leaning up to get a better look at him. “What is it?” he asked.

“…No one but Kilgharrah and I know about it. About Morgana’s role in…in…”

“In what?” He pushed

“Arthur’s death,” he finally whispered, cringing away from the words.

“Explain, please.” He asked, sitting up fully now, turning Merlin so that he faced him.

“There…is a prophecy about Arthur and…me. How we will bring about a golden age for Camelot, where magic can be practiced without fear…but there is another one…about…Arthur’s death and of Morgana’s role in it. She will ally herself with the one destined to kill Arthur in an act of revenge and hate.” He shook his head.

“Merlin?”

“I didn’t believe Kilgharrah at first, but too many things have happened recently for his words to have been lies.”

“You should tell him. He deserves to know.” He tried to reason with the warlock.

“He will want to know how I came by this information and that will lead to the dragon and my magic and that will only bring death,” Merlin reasoned back, voice bitter.

“You can’t think Arthur would let you be executed?” Gwaine asked, disbelieving.

“You can’t know that he won’t do it either.” He felt his eyes tearing again, but brushed them away with a frustrated breath. “I’ve tried…so many times to find the right time to tell him and every time, something happens, someone gets in the way and ruins the moment, makes it so that Arthur distrusts magic even more. I don’t think a time will ever come until he is king, and by then, it might be too late to change his mind.” He pulled at his hair in frustration.

Smiling patiently, Gwaine gently extracted Merlin’s fingers from his hair, running soothing fingers through his black locks, brushing them back from his forehead and into their original state. “Do you trust him?”

“With my life,” he answered solemnly.

“Then you have your answer right there. He deserves to know. It will only harden his heart more if he were to find out only after he had become king. Will you tell him?”

“I’ll think about it.”

“That’s all I ask.” Gwaine started to tug him back down, pulling at the blankets that lay bunched at the end of the bed.

“I should be going. Gaius will worry…” he started to say.

“I’m sure Gaius would prefer it to being be roused from his sleep by you tripping over everything in the room. It’s late; he will have assumed you are elsewhere by now.” He looked at the time candle in the room and saw he was right. Only a few candle marks were left to be burnt out, to signal dawn.

“I guess you are right.” He still dug in his elbow, making the knight wince as he smirked at the warlock. “But only this once.”

They lay down, and he let Gwaine shift him around until they were both comfortable, with his head pillowed on his chest and Gwaine’s arms curled underneath him, warm palm spread over his lower back, holding him close as they settled for sleep. As a last thought, he lifted his head and his eyes flashed gold. He let out a breath and a small breeze flowed through the room, putting out candles and making the fire blaze before it dissipated. He could feel Gwaine’s chuckle where his cheek pressed against his chest and smiled in return, feeling sleep drag the knight under.

~*~

The days passed slowly and eventually a week had gone by since the two knights had left for Cenred’s kingdom. Only one message was sent, from a small border fort between the two kingdoms. The messenger boy was covered in dust but unharmed as he pulled his horse up and slid down its flank.

It was simple, saying they had made it to the border and it would be harder for word to be sent thereafter. Arthur questioned the boy and the child answered as best as he could, chest swelling in pride at being in his Prince’s presence. The two had left anything that could identify them as Knights of Camelot, including their armor and anything that might hold Camelot’s colors.

Remembering his mistake from last time he had gone undercover, Arthur had supplied the two with a mix of coin, most of it old Camelot coins, interspersed with mints from other kingdoms around Camelot, supporting their story of laborers following the work from kingdom to kingdom.

They’d even switched their mounts, not wanting their fine mounts to stand out. Instead they had been last seen riding out on a couple of older horses, contributed from the fort’s own stables. A couple of old warhorses past their prime were less likely to attract attention.

By the time the boy had left, led by a servant down to the kitchens for a quick meal before he left, with more instructions from Arthur to be spread to the other forts, the rest of them had been summoned.

He kept the meeting short and even Gaius and Gwen were there. He had sent word to the forts to keep their eyes open for any activity that looked odd. Instruction had also been given that when the two knights appeared on their doorstep, they were to be aided as they would be carrying vital information that could mean a fast response to the threat of war if the rumors proved true and Morgana was indeed up to something.

Arthur turned to Gaius and Merlin, asking them if they could get to work on mixing up potions and ointments for the possible wounded. Gwen already had a small group of local girls in her home, working on making bandages, just in case. Arthur paid them from his own purse. Uther knew nothing or they thought he knew nothing. If he did know what was going on, he was not acting to help or hinder it.

As for Merlin, he continued to lose time. It was the only thing he could think to call it. He didn’t know what was causing him to fade out and the worry was starting to eat at him. It wasn’t large stretches of time. A few minutes here, half a candlemark there, usually when he was walking from one side of the castle to the other. It was never while he was working or when he was with Gwaine, and for that he could only be grateful. He didn’t know what he would do if Gwaine knew of it.

Gaius had stopped lifting his eyebrow after the second night he spent in Gwaine’s rooms. He didn’t ask anything, but he felt that the older man knew and was happy that he had someone to help him when things weighed too much on his shoulders.

He was constantly on alert, magic always ready, and yet everything was quiet. No new attacks, physical or magical; no threats or traps laid for them. It was peaceful for once, and it left him tense and testy at the end of the day, his shoulders in knots and a headache clawing at his skull.

By the time the end of the second week started to roll near, he was ready to scream. Instead, he let out a moan as Gwaine knelt over him, strong hands kneading his shoulders and back, forcing tense muscles to melt and leaving him relaxed and wrung out. “If you keep this up, Merlin, you’re going to burn out before anything happens,” he said softly, working at a particularly stubborn knot between his shoulder blades.

There was a loud pop as his spine cracked and he could do nothing but groan again, feeling the knot come undone and the warmth that came with it. Sighing, he nodded. “I know; it’s just that I feel like something is about to happen. It’s never been this peaceful since I first met Arthur except in the moment before the storm. Something is coming and I don’t know what.”

“Well, unless you become a Seer, you’ll just have to wait like the rest of us mortals.” Gwaine said gravely.

Merlin jerked up and twisted around, looking at the knight. “Gwaine, I don’t…” he trailed off at the large smirk plastered on Gwaine’s face. Glaring at being tricked like that, he pulled his leg out from under him and pushed his foot against his chest, trying to push the knight off the bed. It didn’t work so well since Gwaine just grabbed his foot and held on.

Grinning evilly, he attacked his foot, rubbing and tickling, making Merlin’s leg muscles jump and he tugged uselessly at his the vice-like hand around his ankle, laughing loudly, twisting and trying to get away. “Stop, stop, I give up!” he cried out and Gwaine stopped.

He lay there panting, Gwaine still holding his leg in the air. He jumped as warm lips pressed against the sole of his foot and started to trail down. He shivered as Gwaine’s beard brushed against his calf, leaving his skin tingling. Gwaine crept lower, peppering his kisses with a brush of his bearded cheeks against his knee, inner thigh.

When he reached his destination, Merlin could only moan as Gwaine grazed his beard over the underside of his cock, his back and hips arching as pleasure surged through his blood and veins again. “I…I can’t.” He nearly wailed, his body still sensitized from their earlier activities and relaxed from the massage.

“Oh, I think you can,” he answered softly and brushed against him again.

~*~

“How long has it been since they left?” Merlin asked, lounging on the bed next to Gwaine.

“It’s closing in on three weeks now. Why, what’s wrong?” Gwaine asked, setting the book down and looking at him.

“I’m just worried. They should have sent word by now. For all we know, they’ve been discovered and are dead, and we’d never know it,” he mused morbidly.

“Don’t think such things. It would take more than this to take down those two. Most likely, they’ve been unable to find a safe way for a message to be delivered and dare not send one of them to do it. It’s too risky to leave one by himself in enemy territory. No need to worry just yet.” He brushed a hand over Merlin’s back and for then, it was enough.

~*~

Two weeks later brought their message in the form of Lancelot and Percival riding borrowed horses that were streaked in sweat and about ready to collapse. The two knights looked just the same, swaying in their saddles as they pushed their horses hard to reach the courtyard. Gaius was seeing to the king when he was summoned, so Merlin came in his place, toting his bag of supplies.

A shallow gashed had been hastily bandaged on Lancelot’s arm; Percival sprouted a new scar running the curve of his jaw. They were littered with small cuts from branches and brambles that had snagged at their skin as the rode hell bent to reach Camelot with their news.

Merlin was tending them when Arthur arrived. He looked grave as he strode up. “What news?” he demanded, body held taut and poised for any news.

“War, sire. We go to war,” Percival answered, his eyes weary.

~*~

As word of the knight’s news spread, organized chaos descended on Camelot. The cathedral might have weathered wars and sieges before, but it still took time to prepare, to gather their citizens, supplies to last. Arthur, knowing he needed to act quickly, sent out word to the outlying villages, to prepare them and offering Camelot as a safe haven.

Gwaine soon showed up next to Merlin and between them, they got the lagging knights up the steps and into the castle. They sagged down onto handy benches when the door to Gaius’s workroom opened for the four of them.

Walking over to Gaius’s potion shelves, he rummaged amongst them before pulling a pair of small vials out. “Here.” He held it out to Lancelot and the other to Percival. “This will keep you awake for long enough to get through your message and some initial planning. You better be in your rooms by the time it wears off or else you’ll be sleeping where you fall,” he joked, grinning when they made a face at the taste.

Gwaine handed over a couple of goblets of water to wash the potions down. There was a knock at the door and a servant poked his head through. “Prince Arthur sends instructions for you to attend him in his rooms when you have recovered enough.” Gwaine nodded to the boy, smiling in thanks and turned back once the door was shut.

“We should go. He will need to know what we found out,” Lancelot said aloud. Stifling a groan, he pushed himself to his feet. Gwaine could see how tired they were, no matter what it was Merlin had given them, they needed sleep, and soon.

The trek through the castle was silent. Most of the servants had been called to the banquet hall where they were being given instructions on tasks. Even if the battle was not fought here, it was still safe haven for those who lived in Camelot’s farm lands and forests.

Percival and Lancelot were a little ahead of them, talking softly amongst themselves, hands gesturing as they walked. Merlin was a pensive shadow next to him, only the sound of his footsteps and his quiet breathing telling him that the warlock was still there. “Merlin,” he called softly.

When no answer came, Gwaine looked over at him. His face was a blank mask; eyes guarded and had the intensely focused quality of someone thinking deeply. He called Merlin’s name again, trying to gain his attention. When that didn’t rouse him from his thoughts, he reached out, hand settling heavily on his shoulder.

He pulled it back just as quickly when Merlin filched, eyes opening in alarm, his head jerking to look over at Gwaine. For a brief second, something flashed in his eyes and if Gwaine had been pressed, he would have said it looked like Merlin had been afraid of something. It was gone too fast for him to be sure and then Merlin was smiling in apology.

“Sorry, you startled me. Did you want something?” Merlin asked softly, keeping an eye on the two knights ahead as they swayed slightly on their feet.

Eyeing him for a moment, Gwaine shook his head, “Just wondering if you were okay. You’ve been awfully quiet for someone who’s just learned that we’re going to war.” He commented dryly.

“Uh…sorry. Just thinking. I mean, Gaius is going to be staying here, or closer to here. I’m just trying to figure out what I would need to bring when we do go,” he admitted quietly.

“Don’t worry. You’re not alone in this. Others will help.” Gwaine tried to reassure him and was rewarded with a wan smile.

They didn’t have time to talk further as the door ahead opened and Arthur stood there, waiting for them to enter. The others were already gathered around the table, all except Gaius, who was still seeing to Uther. Once they were settled, Arthur nodded for the knights to start talking.

“Two days after we crossed the border we got the first lead. A farmer had seen a woman, pale, with dark hair, running through the woods, her dress in shreds. He had thought she was a witch or a ghost. He didn’t get a good look at her face, but he had said she had been traveling northwest, towards the mountains that separated the border from the capital, though it had been some months before. We set out from there.” Lancelot paused to sip from the goblet of watered wine that was set in front of him and Percival took over.

“We followed the trail for the next three days, and found similar reports. We had to hide often; the woods were crawling with bandits and outlaws looking for travelers. Eventually we got to the capital. It was in ruins. When we asked what had happened, the locals had said that those left over of Cenred’s men that hadn’t become part of his immortal army had rioted, along with the peasants that he had taxed into poverty to pay for his great army. Many of the lords had fled back to their own lands. We did manage to find the man Gaius had sent us to find. He had been living with relatives in one of the villages when the fighting broke out. The letter had proven helpful. He confirmed that Morgause had indeed been seen often with Cenred and she was the one to have Cenred killed in his own throne room.” He stopped for breath.

“There wasn’t much more he could tell us. After the immortal army had disappeared and the rioting had calmed down, nothing seemed to happen. There was no sighting of Morgana in the city, though the rumors were there as well. Eventually, we left after two somewhat fruitful days and embarked further northwest since that was the direction she had been traveling…It was horrible. We had thought those near the border had it rough. In the mountains, they had had the rotting disease spreading through their crops for the last month. Cenred had refused them help when drought ravaged them the year before. So many had died, were dying, and starving before our eyes. We tried to help those we could, giving what little food and coin we could, but it wasn’t enough to make much of a difference. It took us two more days to get to the mountains proper. We rode mostly at night, using the moon and stars to guide us and see by. The bandits were worse there.” Lancelot stopped speaking, eyes dark as he remembered. Percival picked up for them.

“It was in a small mountain village that we got word of Morgana, some four days after we left the capital. Two men had come to the village, asking for volunteers. Preferably men, but women too were welcome. They had paid their families up front to entice others to follow their example. That had been two months before and no one has seen the villagers since nor had any word from them. They said the men had come from even further northwest, from the frozen wilds that few inhabited. When we had asked them to describe these men, they said they had been dressed in fine cloth, with much jewelry. That they had carried- sorry, but this seems to be what they said- human finger bones on a leather thong and looked like sorcerers, though they never saw them use any magic.” Arthur flinched at his words but said nothing, only nodded for them to continue.

“We kept to the mountain trails, heading further west, stopping at each village we stumbled upon. It was the same. Two men who looked like sorcerers came asking for volunteers, and they had never heard from those who left again. This was around the third week. It was a few days into the fourth when we got bogged down by a late snowstorm, though so high up in the mountains, it wasn’t unexpected. We found shelter in a small village high up in the peaks, in a hidden valley. We were there for two days, waiting for the trails to open up when we caught a break. Those two men that had been appearing in each village came to this one, the last one apparently before they returned from whence they had come.” Gwaine could see Arthur tense as he waited for them to continue.

“What the villagers had said was true, that they asked for volunteers, though they were vague about what they needed them for. The human bones though, were false. It was just chicken bones tied in the thong, easily mistaken from a distance. Deciding to see what these two men were gathering people for, we volunteered ourselves, going by our cover story of laborers in need of work. We and a few others from the village followed them the next morning. For two days we followed, further west, and a little south, following the spine of the mountains as it flowed towards the coast. We had had no confirmation that the men were sorcerers until we came to a sort of crossroads. It looked like the trail went on through miles more of forest. But then they both spoke something and waved their hands and the scene vanished. Instead we stood in front of some sort of hidden valley. There were men and tents for as far as we could see. There was smoke from weapons forges clogging the air and we could see in the distance…there were so many of them, all using magic.” Percival stopped, unable to go on.

“We followed them into the camp, staying to the back of the group. It was as we were being assigned to a group that Morgana appeared from the main tent in the camp. She was talking to the two we had followed and hadn’t noticed us. But, I’m afraid to admit, she looked up and recognized me, sire. She gave a shout and it was all we could do to flee for our lives. We were lucky our horses were as fresh as they were and that the trees blocked the spells cast. We hardly stopped to let the horses rest and drink. We only allowed ourselves to stop in a village to resupply and slept in watches when we needed to. We got here as fast as we could, but for all we know she has started her march here.” Lancelot looked up. “If she has, we don’t have much time, Sire. We must be ready for when she arrives.”

“You two have done well and I am sorry to have had to put you in such danger. For now, you are dismissed. Go, get the rest you need before you pass out here and I end up under Merlin’s glare,” he joked at the two, ignoring Merlin’s soft “Oi!” which lightened the atmosphere somewhat. The two knights bowed to their prince and left, using each other as support as they navigated their way to their rooms.

“What now, sire?” Leon asked, looking at his prince in worry.

“Now we plan, Sir Leon.” He walked to his desk and pulled a rolled map off of it. They lifted their goblets and the watered wine pitcher up, allowing Arthur to spread it on the table for all to see. “From what Lancelot and Percival told us, her camp was somewhere here, in the Garian Mountains.” He pointed to the jagged line that proclaimed where the mountains were and the path they followed. It was far northwest of Camelot and there were two other mountain ranges between them and a number of rivers and lakes. With all that, it would take Morgana’s army some time to arrive. “Our border forts have been on alert, but with how quickly those two got here and how long it would take for an army of the size they described, we still have some time, hopefully enough to mobilize our own.”

Arthur ran his hand over the border that separated the two kingdoms, a fat flowing line that threaded through the countryside. Gwaine heard Merlin suck in a sharp breath and turned to look at him, as did the others. “What is it, Merlin?” Arthur asked, though without his usual drawl. This was serious and Merlin was an equal here as they all were.

“It’s…nothing.” He was lying; they could all see it in the tense set of his shoulders. Something was wrong.

“Merlin, tell me.” Arthur commanded.

“It’s just…” He didn’t finish, but he reached out, running a gentle fingertip over a spot along the border, a black dot with the word _Ealdor_ written in slanted letters. Merlin was chewing his lower lip in agitation, a small crease between his brows and Gwaine wished they were alone so that he could smooth it away.

“Oh…” Arthur said, realization dawning on his features.

“What is it?” Elyan finally asked, looking at the servant.

“Merlin’s mother lives in Cenred’s kingdom, right on the border.” Gwen supplied. A heavy silence descended on them.

“It’s…not that. There have been wars before and we’ve been all right. Ealdor’s secluded, and few really know it is there…but…”

“But what?” Arthur coaxed.

“Morgana…she knows. She knows my mother is still there.” The room was tense at the implications of those words. That Morgana would use Merlin’s mother to get at Merlin and through Merlin, Arthur, who cared for Hunith as if she were his own mother. That she might be willing to stoop to such means to bring Camelot and Arthur to their knees.


	5. Part 4

**_ Part 4. _ **

“Merlin…” he said softly, drawing to a stop beside the warlock.

“Don’t try to stop me, Gwaine,” he bit out, continuing to saddle his horse. They had all left Arthur’s rooms late, and for the first time in weeks, Merlin had not stayed in Gwaine’s rooms, choosing to sleep in his old room in Gaius’s chambers.

“I wasn’t going to,” Gwaine retorted, setting his own pack down next to Merlin’s and walking to his horse’s stall, whistling softly. She came forward with a nicker, nosing at his hands and pockets for any hidden treats as he was prone to spoiling her now that they were here in Camelot.

Smirking, he gave her the slices of apple he had brought for her and set about pulling his tack down from the wall inside the stall, working quickly to get her ready for the ride. “You don’t have to come, you know,” Merlin said softly from two stalls down, as he made the last adjustments to her harness, checking the bridle and bit before stroking a hand over her nose, trying to comfort himself and the horse. Cyssan snorted softly into his shirt, sensing the tension in him.

“No, I don’t, but I am.” He looked up briefly over the walls of the stalls to catch Merlin’s gaze. “You’ll need help if she is there. Besides, who’s going to keep watch over you and protect you from the pheasants?” he joked, cracking a grin.

Merlin outright laughed at that, burying his face in Cyssan’s neck as his shoulders shook with mirth. Working quickly, Gwaine finished saddling his horse while Merlin got himself under control and caught his breath. As Merlin finally pulled away from his horse and started to guide her out, he was waylaid, Herestræl’s teeth clamping into the sleeve of his jacket, the horse eyeing him with as much disdain as Arthur on one of his bad days.

“Sorry, Herestræl, but you’re not coming with me today. You need to stay here and keep an eye on Arthur. Make sure he isn’t a prat to anyone, all right?” The horse whickered softly, nosing his chest in understanding, and retreated into his stall, head held high and alert as he waited for his master to come down for his daily visit.

Eventually, they were in the saddle and riding out at a slow walk. It was still early, the sun just creeping over the horizon and splashing vivid color over the sky. The city was just waking up and only the early risers bringing their goods in from the further villages and the guards at the northern gate saw them leave.

As the city fell away, they nudged their mounts into a slow canter, following the well-used trail that led towards the border and Cenred’s kingdom. They rode hard, keeping their mounts between an all-out gallop and a fast trot for brief periods of time, slowing them to a walk so they could catch their breath and rest.

Even then, night still crept up on them when they had traveled more than half the distance. “We should reach there by noon.” Merlin said, piling logs and tender together in a cleared space in the forest floor, ringed with stones. His eyes flashed and the fire sprang into life.

“Actually, maybe a little later than that,” Gwaine answered and Merlin looked up at him. “Arthur asked me to bring a message to the fort nearest Ealdor, so they can send word of Arthur’s plans for facing Morgana and send word out to the villages, asking for recruits. We’ll need all the help we can get.” As he finished, he looked knowingly at Merlin.

“I’ll do what I can, but even I can’t stop a whole army of sorcerers and Druids. I may have more power than them, but I’m still only half-trained.” Merlin warned him to keep from getting his hopes up.

“And yet, you were still able to take out an immortal army with one swing of a sword,” he joked. Merlin gave a mock glare, but said nothing. They ate in relative silence, seated next to each other, enjoying the company. Groaning, Gwaine stood. “I’ll take first watch.” Merlin nodded and watched him lean back against a nearby tree trunk, sword drawn and resting on his lap.

Getting up as well, he grabbed his bed roll, dragging in closer to Gwaine and lay down, listening to the cracking of the fire, the din of the nocturnal insects and Gwaine breathing, letting the sounds lull him into half doze.

He woke with a start as Gwaine shook his shoulder, calling his name. His heart was hammering and breath whistling through his nose as he kept his jaw clamped on the scream that wanted to escape. Swallowing it, he blinked, letting his surroundings filter in and calm him. It was just a dream, it hadn’t been real. “You okay?” Gwaine asked, crouched down next to him, concern painting his face.

“Yeah, just a bad dream.” He rubbed his eyes. The fire had died down some. Dawn was a few hours away.

“What was it about?” He asked as Merlin stood, shaking his limbs loose. Gwaine handed him the sword as he settled into his own bed roll.

“I…I don’t remember,” Merlin finally said, his brow furrowed as he thought about it. He had, for a second there when he had first awoken. Now, all that was left was a fleeting impression of fear and anger and that time was running out, like sand through his fingers. He felt like he’d been told something of extreme importance and needed to remember, but every time he tried, it slipped away, eluding him.

“That’s all right. It’ll come back when it’s needed, not before,” Gwaine said wisely, lying down on his side, pulling the blankets up to his shoulder. “Night,” he said softly. Merlin answered by running his fingers through Gwaine’s hair once before he leaned back, eyes adjusting to the darkness, ears trained for anything irregular in the nighttime sounds.

~*~

Predawn had just passed when they saddled up and continued their journey, using the weak light to guide their steps. Dew covered everything as they kept their horses to a walk, waiting until there was better light to see by before they went faster. Merlin was silent, his pensive gaze kept straight ahead, tension clear in the sharp pull on his shoulders.

By the time the sun had risen high enough in the sky to light the way better, the border fort was in sight. They maneuvered their horses down the slight incline of the trail as it went down a steep hill. In the distance, they could see the fort, the area around it cleared for about five hundred yards, allowing no cover for any enemy attacks.

The knights on duty at the fort hailed them, faces showing the worry and strain of those working to ready for a big battle. They didn’t even go inside, just sat on their mounts as Gwaine spoke quietly with the fort commander. A small scroll was exchanged, along with some more words and a nod of acknowledgement before Gwaine straightened and nodded to Merlin.

They set off at a light trot, following some less-used tracks. By the time they drew close to Ealdor, they were on something that looked more like a game trail than a way to his village. “I’m not using the main road. If she’s there or any of her troops, I don’t want her to see me. We’re taking a back route that…” he swallowed but kept on, “…that I found with my best friend Will when we were younger. It will take us to just behind my mother’s home.”

The trail only got smaller, and at the very end, they actually had to force their way through some underbrush. But it did indeed open up behind a small village. It was quiet, the insects droning softly in the heat of the afternoon. They were both instantly on alert as they drew their horses up, looking around.

If this had been a normal day, the villagers would be outside, tending the harvest, talking, gossiping, and cooking. It would be a busy little place with children running about underfoot and dogs scavenging scraps from compost heaps. Instead, it was deathly still, nothing moving about as if time had been frozen.

Tying the horses up, they crept forward, going to the closest house, the one next door to Merlin’s. Peeking in the window by pulling the shutters back an inch, he could see Henry Geraldson at their tiny wooden dining table. He was slumped forward, as if he had fallen asleep and no one had remembered to waken him. His wife Anne was slumped on the floor in the kitchen by the wall, the knife and carrot she had been holding on the floor, dropped and forgotten.

Gwaine came over to him from inspecting the next home over. “Everyone’s asleep, even the dog and cat. Knocked out. This has got to be magic.” Merlin nodded, looking at his home.

He could feel it, had felt it once before, so long ago. He and Gwaine would have to be careful, or else the spell would take hold of them, forcing them to sleep, unaware of anything around them. Shifting forward, he crept for his mother’s home, eyes and ears straining for any sound or sight of movement.

“Stay outside until I call you. She won’t be expecting anyone else besides Arthur. We can use that against her.” Gwaine nodded, drawing his sword. Merlin watched that with envy. He wished he could draw his own weapon, shroud himself in a cloak of his magic, but as far as he knew, Morgana was still ignorant of his magic. It would need to remain that way until he absolutely needed to give himself away.

Slowly, they crept around the house until Merlin was at the front door. Looking once back at Gwaine, they nodded and Merlin straightened. He gave a loud knock on the door. “Mother!” he called out, putting a small amount of worry in his voice. He pushed the door open.

“Ah, Merlin. I wasn’t expecting you,” she said, looking up from the table with a smile, setting her cup down as she stood. Merlin wasn’t looking at her though. His eyes were drawn to the paler woman seated next to his mother. Morgana shot an amused smirk at him. “Lady Morgana came by for a visit. We were just catching up.”

“Mother, get away from her,” he ground out, not taking his eyes off of the sorceress.

“Merlin, that’s no way to treat a-,” she started to admonish.

“Mother, trust me on this. Just get away from her.” He saw her nodding out of the corner of his eye, but didn’t look away.

“Now, Merlin, that’s no way to treat a friend.” Morgana chided, red lips drawn in a smirk. She was dressed in finely woven clothing, chainmail shining from underneath. The sword at her hip was sheathed, but it was nothing next to her magic.

“You are not my friend,” he bit back, thinking fast, trying to find a way out of the confrontation that this seemed to be barreling towards.

“Hm, true.” She stood with a slow grace. “Arthur thinks he’s so clever, finding out my plans. I let those two knights of his live so they could bring word to him. I wanted him to know. It would be no fun if he were to fall because he was caught unawares. I want to savor my revenge as I watch him die. You and all those others who fight in the name of their prince.”

“You won’t win, and even if you did, Camelot would still not accept you as queen, no matter whose blood runs through your veins.” He knew Gwaine was listening, waiting for Merlin’s signal.

“Queen? No, I don’t plan on becoming Camelot’s queen. Why would I want to be the ruler of such a ruined place? No. My plans are to raze it to the ground and start anew. I will build a new Camelot with my new army.”

“You plan to fight with half-trained warriors and sorcerers then?” he asked. “Camelot’s army would slaughter them.”

“Oh, Merlin. If only that were true. But my soldiers are not what you are thinking. They were not born with the ability to do magic. I found a way around that though. I found a way to let them use magic, for all of them to do magic. I gathered warriors and mercenaries from all over Albion. They will do just fine, I should say, against Arthur’s little gang of blue bloods.”

She took a menacing step forward. “But unfortunately, you will not be allowed to tell him this. I’m sorry, Merlin. I had hoped to spare you. You have been so misguided by my half-brother and our father. But it is too late now for you. The corruption has gone beyond repair.”

He could see the gold starting to shine in her eyes. He took a step back. “Gwaine!” he called.

The knight stood in the doorway, sword pointed at Morgana. “I would think twice about what you do. One thrust and you will be dead before you can even finish speaking your spell,” he warned her, eyes hard as he watched her every move.

“You would die as well,” she told him, glaring hatred at the two in front of her.

“Yes, but it would solve the problem of you leading your army into battle. And I’m sure many of the spells you used to create your soldiers would end with your death. So, chose your fight wisely, _my lady_.” He growled the last part.

She gave a sniff, but backed down. “Fine. I will see you on the battle field.” She turned to look at Merlin. “Watch your back, Merlin.” There was a swirl of wind, snatching at clothing and loose items in the house. The fire flared as the gale screeched in defiance at the walls confining it, and then it was gone.

Outside, the sound of people stirring had them sighing in relief. Sagging a little, Merlin felt his knees tremble, adrenalin pumping through his veins. They all took a moment to collect themselves. Finally, Merlin stirred. “Mother, you must come with us. It’s not safe here. She may come back,” he said.

“Merlin, I can’t.” Her eyes were full of sadness at the look her son sent her. “I know you feel that this is the right thing to do, but I can’t. This is my home and I will stay with it until the end. Besides, Ealdor is out of the way and we have been through wars before. We’ll be fine.”

She held her arms out and he walked into them, letting her wrap them around his back as she held him. Gwaine straightened, sheathing his sword as he looked around the place that Merlin had grown up in.

“So who is this?” Hunith said as they pulled apart.

“Um…this is Gwaine.” Merlin finally said, flushing a little as his mother looked between them. “He knows about my magic,” he said softly, smiling at Gwaine.

Hunith was still looking between them, understanding flaring in her eyes as she saw the smiles exchanged between them. “Oh, Merlin. It’s good you finally found someone.” Her words just made him turn an even darker red.

“Mother…” he hissed softly.

“All right, I won’t say anymore.” She turned to Gwaine. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” She held out a hand and he took it. “Do you two plan to stay long?” she asked when they had let go.

“We can’t. We need to get back to Arthur and tell him what we have learned.” He turned to his mother. “Since you won’t come with us, will you please hide in the cave I showed you all those years ago if any of Morgana’s soldiers show up? It’s large enough to take the others from the village that would go with you.”

“I will. Please be careful, both of you. You will send me word once this is over so I can know you are all right.”

“We’ll do one better and come and visit properly,” Gwaine assured her.

“Thank you. Give my greetings to Arthur and Gwen. Don’t worry about the villagers. I’ll tell them what happened and warn them about what’s to come.” Merlin nodded and kissed her on the cheek one last time before he left with Gwaine.

The horses were still where they left them, whickering softly as they caught sight of their riders. They mounted and rode along the edge of the village, towards the main road the led out of it. Once they were some distance away from the village, they spurred their mounts on. They still had some light left and wanted to get to the fort to give them the news before going on as far as they could before night stopped them.

~*~

The knights were already coming out, when they reined their horses in, having spotted them in the distance. Gwaine and merlin gave them a short run through of what they had learned. The knights would be prepared for the sorcerous warriors that were coming. They would spread the word and inform the villagers who wouldn’t be fighting to avoid them at all costs.

Soon, they were riding hard back south, towards Camelot. They still had a day’s journey to go when night fell, the light fading quickly. Cyssan danced around when they pulled up in a small little clearing next to a stream. “We can keep going on. I can provide light,” Merlin suggested as Gwaine dismounted.

Gwaine shook his head no. “I know you want to get there as fast as possible to warn Arthur. I do too, but our horses are tired and need to rest. We will get there much faster if they are fresh.” Merlin sighed, but got off his horse as well.

Neither slept well that night. Merlin dozed for a few hours before his dreams woke him up and faded from memory again. Gwaine was still awake, having taken the first watch, tense and alert, waiting for some form of magical attack.

“Gwaine, you should get some sleep.” Merlin said softly, rising to go sit next to him. They dared not start a fire in case they were being followed.

“Can’t,” he said simply, tracking the shadows as the moon slowly traveled overhead.

Sighing, he sat down next to him. “Neither can I.”

“Bad dreams again?” Gwaine asked, looking over at him.

“Yeah. Usually if I have dreams before something big, I can remember them. It’s like something is forcing me to forget.” He let his body tilt until they were pressed together down their sides. Gwaine shifted, lifting his arm up to wrap around his shoulders, pulling him closer.

Merlin turned his head and moonlight flashed over Gwaine’s necklace. Gwaine lifted his hand up to it, feeling the flesh warmed gold and silver. “Lift up for a second.” Merlin complied and watched as he fiddled with something behind his head. When he pulled his hands back, the necklace came with him, flashing again.

“Gwaine…”

“This has been a good luck charm of sorts for me. I want you to have it,” he said, holding it out to him.

“Gwaine, I can’t. It’s your mother’s.” He shook his head.

“Yes, it was a courting gift from my father. When she gave it to me, she wanted me to use it the same way. I know I’m not the most virtuous person, but I want you to have it. So you’ll remember to come back to me once all this craziness has ended. Besides, you need all the luck you can get, Merlin. You have enemies out there who will come for you soon.”

Merlin, to his embarrassment, felt tears pricking his eyes. “I-,” he cleared his throat which had grown tight and gravely. “I accept,” he whispered and let Gwaine secure it around his neck. He pressed a kiss against Gwaine’s lips before he pulled away. “I’ll be there. When this war is finally over, I’ll be there, Gwaine.”

Gwaine just smiled and pulled him close again, the two staying up into the night as their horses dozed nearby.

~*~

The horses pulled up short with a clatter of hooves on cobblestones as they finally arrived back in Camelot. Stable hands came out, taking the flagging creatures away to be tended and left to rest. The two barely stopped to give their mounts one last pat before they were racing up the stairs for Arthur’s rooms where he was sure to be holed up going over strategies.

Neither knocked as they barged in. A few of the others were in there, talking with Arthur, bent over maps, colored stones and parchments with numbers scratched on them. The room had a tension in the air that wasn’t there when they had left. They all looked up as the two of them walked in.

Merlin took one look at Arthur’s pinched face and asked, “What’s happened?”

Arthur stood and dismissed the knights, leaving the three of them alone in the room. “My father has learned of what is happening. Though I had hoped to keep it from him long enough that he could do nothing to change our plans. He now insists that he will also lead the army as well.”

“And Gaius?”

“Physically, my father is still a fit man, though getting on in years. He…,” Arthur stopped for a moment, taking a breath, “he is not a stable man though. The last few months have shown that he is slowly losing himself. I do not feel he is fit enough to go into battle, let alone face a horde of sorcerers. The fact that it is Morgana leading them will just end up making him worse.”

“We can watch over him. Make sure he does nothing rash and protect him if…something should occur.” Gwaine said softly.

“I’ve done that already. Elyan, Percival and Leon will stay with my father. You and Lancelot will remain with me. Hopefully that will keep us alive long enough to win this battle.” He gave a sigh and settled into chair. “What news of your mother?” he asked Merlin.

Merlin shook his head. “She has decided to remain. I think it’s mainly to do with before. They’ve finally gotten their homes back and they will protect them to the last,” he said softly, looking away towards the window where the sun was just starting to set.

“There’s more.” Gwaine said when Merlin didn’t turn back. Arthur nodded for him to continue. “Morgana was there.”

“Speak.” Arthur’s full attention was focused on the knight. Gwaine spoke as quickly as he could, giving all the details he knew.

“I have left word among the forts. Word will spread and they will be prepared, but we must finish preparing as well. She will be here soon.”

Arthur nodded “We will be setting out either tomorrow or the day after, if things go as planned. Here, look.” They both followed him to the table to look at his map. “Here. We will meet her here. It is spacious enough for our horsemen and will keep her from getting to Camelot easily. The only mountain pass for miles will be behind us. This will either force her to a stop, or she will have to go around the mountains. Even at this time of year, they are treacherous and her army will be forced to go on foot since their horses will not be able to go over.”

“It looks good. It was clear when we passed through it the day before. Should Morgana’s forces hit the border before we are ready, the forts will send a messenger bird to warn us of it,” Gwaine said, peering at the map one last time.

“The rest will be discussing it in the war room. Go if you like. I’m sure they could use your knowledge of terrain and back roads.” Gwaine nodded. He saluted them both, fist to his chest, and bowed, cocky grin on his lips before he slipped out.

The room was silent as he left. Merlin, needing something to do while he thought, started to straighten Arthur’s rooms. It was only when Arthur’s hand on his arm stopped him that he realized what he was doing. “You don’t need to do that, Merlin. I’m sure you are tired and could use some sleep.”

Merlin turned with a wry grin. “Old habits die hard, I guess,” he said as he looked at Arthur.

But he wasn’t looking at Merlin. He was looking a little further down, near Merlin’s neck. He reached out a hand and Merlin followed it. It wasn’t until his fingers lifted up Gwaine’s necklace that he realized that it must have slipped out from underneath his shirt and neckerchief while he tidied up.

[ ](http://pics.livejournal.com/reiya_wakayama/pic/0000dxed/)

Merlin, his face flushing, looked away, waiting for Arthur to say something. “Hmm, this explains more than it confuses,” he mused aloud, and Merlin was forced to look at him in confusion at his cryptic words. “Oh, don’t look at me like that. I’m not going to bite your head off or something.” He let the necklace drop and walked over to look out the window. “I’m…happy for you two.” Now Arthur was flushing in embarrassment as he gave his blessing to their relationship. “But Merlin…” Arthur turned to look at him, “if he ever hurts you, he will wish for death once I am through with him.”

“Thank you, S-Arthur.” He smiled at the prince. “I need to go talk with Gaius about supplies. He walked towards the door. Stopping for a second with his hand on the door, he turned back to Arthur. “Oh, and my mother sends her regards and hopes that once things have calmed down, you might come for a visit.” Before Arthur could speak as he choked on his own tongue, Merlin was gone, slipping out the door, grin almost splitting his face in half.

~*~

Their breath steamed in the cool, predawn air. Dew coated everything and fog crept through trees and grass, slinking low to the ground and muffling the horses’ hooves as Camelot’s forces rode through the countryside. The roads and fields were empty of any life, humans and livestock long gone as they sought shelter in the citadel.

Arthur and Uther rode at the head of the train, resplendent in gleaming full armor and blazing crimson cloaks. Merlin wished dearly to be up there, to be able to protect Arthur. But he was stuck in the supply lines that trailed the knights and soldiers, guiding the cart of medical supplies as Gaius napped in the back, needing all the rest he could get before all hell broke loose.

He couldn’t say driving the cart was easy. The roads were damp from the light rain from the night before, the dirt churned up from the laden horses ahead and from past carts. Often, he and some of the other servants would have to dismount and ease the wheels of the cart out of a deep rut that had trapped it. By the time the sun started to sink, he was sweating and tired, his back and legs stiff from being seated on a hard wooden bench and from pushing the cart.

Gaius was awake by then, looking alert as they drew nearer to their campsite. The supplies would remain in this campsite as the army rode ahead in the morning to meet Morgana on the Tearian Plains just north of the mountain pass. Merlin and Gaius, along with the rest of the servants who had volunteered to come, would remain behind, to see to the wounded as they were brought in.

Merlin hated it and said as much to Gwaine that night as he helped the knight finish setting up his tent. He had been lucky; being one of Arthur’s personal guards had allowed him to have his own tent instead of sharing as the regular soldiers were forced to do.

“He wants to protect you and I agree with him,” Gwaine answered, face serious as he regarded Merlin from his kneeling position as he laid out their bedrolls.

“You of all people should know that I don’t need protecting.” Merlin started to pace, hunched over in the limited space of the tent that only allowed him to take two steps before he met canvas wall. “I need to be there. It is my duty to protect him.”

Gwaine sighed, but he seemed to accept Merlin’s words. “I know this, but Arthur doesn’t. You will just have to do what you always do.” Merlin looked up, confused by his words. “Ignore his orders and do what you feel is right.”

Merlin smiled down at him, stepping closer. “Thank you.”

Reaching up, Gwaine lifted the necklace from under Merlin’s shirt and brought it to his lips to kiss briefly. “Be careful and be safe. I still have a lot more courting to do if I am to woo you,” he joked and Merlin grinned, bending down to kiss his generous mouth before straightening.

“I have to go. Gaius will need my help setting his tent up. I’ll be back after dinner.” Gwaine gave his hand a squeeze and let him go.

~*~

The atmosphere during the evening meal was subdued, every man meditating on the coming battle of the morrow. The food was simple fare and even Arthur and Uther ate it, though they were given larger portions of it in their tent.

Merlin served them both, Uther’s manservant having chosen to stay behind. Both were tense, thoughts elsewhere as they picked at their meal. Silently, he refilled their goblets with water. He jerked a little when Arthur’s hand settled on his arm, but he stopped before the jug of water spilled. “Enough, Merlin. You may retire. My father and I still have some things to discuss.” Merlin nodded, setting the jug close enough for them to take. “Send Leon in,” he called after Merlin as he slipped from the central tent in the camp.

Fires burned everywhere, dotting the darkness like stars fallen to the earth. Leon wasn’t hard to find, seated with the rest of the knights as they talked amongst themselves, voices soft. He nodded as Merlin delivered his message, rising with a quiet “thank you”.

Nodding goodnight to Lancelot, Percival, and Elyan, he left, slipping into the darkened camp between fires. Gwaine’s tent wasn’t hard to find amongst the clusters of tents. A candle burned inside, silhouetting his form against the material of the tent.

As he slipped inside, he looked up from where he was untying his boots, still in his armor. Smiling, Merlin stepped forward and started to help him strip the metal pieces off. As the buckles came undone and he set the armor aside, he let his fingers linger on his hard, even lines, feeling the shift of muscle as he moved and bent to allow Merlin to get to the straps easier.

By the time they tugged his chainmail over his head and folded over the pile of armor, Merlin could already feel the lazy heat of arousal uncurling in his belly. Gwaine was watching him, eyes hooded as he was finally able to strip first one boot then the other off, chucking them to the side without care.

As he straightened, he stopped by the candle and blew it out, darkness descending around them in a soft embrace. The rustle of fabric sounded softly and then Gwaine’s heat was pressed all along his back and thighs.

Hard arms encircled his waist, pulled him back completely to feel the hardening arousal of the knight. Merlin could do nothing but submit, letting his head fall back onto his bare shoulder as he kissed a trail down his neck. Warm, calloused fingers wormed under his tunic, sliding along his stomach in a slow drag that made his muscles tremble in anticipation.

“Gwaine.” He sighed softly, turning to seek his mouth out.

“Shh.” Gwaine guided his mouth, palm brushing his jaw, thumb sweeping along his cheekbone. When their lips touched, he couldn’t stop the soft groan from escaping to be devoured in Gwaine’s mouth. He twisted around, Merlin’s arms wrapping around his neck and shoulders.

He could feel Gwaine’s hands sliding lower to knead his arse, digging into the giving flesh and pulling him even closer, grinding their hips together in a slow circling grating motion that had him clutching desperately at Gwaine’s shoulders as his knees started to turn to water.

“Gwaine, please,” he begged softly. Tomorrow, they would go to war and who knew what awaited them. He just wanted one more night of Gwaine, of them together, just in case…

“Stop thinking, Merlin. Forget about tomorrow. Just feel.” He took a step back, guiding Merlin forward, slowly lowering them to their combined bedrolls, angling them until Merlin lay stretched out on top of him, straddling his hips.

They kissed slowly, Gwaine drawing him out, coaxing him on, letting the give and take sooth his jittery nerves and worries. By the time they drew apart, Merlin’s neckerchief was lying somewhere in the tent along with his shirt.

Gwaine flipped them and his dexterous fingers worked at Merlin’s laces, unknotting them and sliding his breeches and smalls down, hands stroking down his hips, thighs, calves, and feet, setting them to the side with the rest of his clothing. He quickly divested himself of his own pants and Merlin had to bite his fist to keep from moaning aloud as Gwaine slid over him, skin slick with sweat from the heat of the camp fires.

“Merlin…” he called softly, drawing the warlock’s attention. “Where…” Merlin didn’t even let him finish before his eyes flashed gold and a small vial floated over from the inside pocket of his pack. It landed softly in Gwaine’s outstretched hand.

“Did I ever tell you how much I love your magic?” he joked, uncorking the vial to coat his fingers. Merlin just glared up at him with a dazed look on his face, trying to make Gwaine go faster. Complying with his wishes, Gwaine set the vial aside and trailed a finger down his leaking cock, grazing over his sensitive balls to rest solidly against his anus, the muscles twitching in anticipation as the nerves there flared to life.

“Gwaine-oh.” Merlin grunted as Gwaine pushed one finger in smoothly aided by the oil. He shifted, bringing his knees up and spreading his legs wider to give Gwaine better access. “More, please.”

Gwaine ignored him, working the single finger thoroughly inside Merlin, loosening him up, before even adding a second finger. Merlin groaned low in his throat as the second one penetrated him, and hissed softly when the third was added soon after. Gwaine tried to soothe him, brushing his free hand down over his stomach while kissing his inner thigh lightly and soon Merlin relaxed around his fingers.

Gwaine worked quickly; loosening him while he searched for the spot he knew would have Merlin trembling. When Merlin gave a soft gasp as his hips arched up and down on his fingers, Gwaine knew he’d found it. Hitting it a couple more times, he finally pulled out, Merlin’s hips following before he stilled him with a hand on his hip.

Picking up the vial, he slicked his own engorged flesh with a soft hiss, fighting the impulse to work himself until he reached his peak. He could see the gleam of Merlin’s eyes on him as light leaked in from the nearby campfire, watching him, waiting for him. That alone had him pushing forward, his arousal spiking at the thought that Merlin lay there, aroused and pliant, just for him.

Gwaine pressed the head of his cock to his loose hole and waited. Merlin’s thighs spread even wider, legs wrapping around his waist as his hands glided over his shoulders, tugging him forward. Gwaine sunk into his heat with a strangled groan, hand clutching at his hip and the bedroll below in a near death-grip as he kept himself slow.

It was hard to though, when Merlin was making soft mewling sounds as his arse muscles clenched around him, drawing him in. Finally though, he was seated in completely, Merlin’s arse flush with his lap. Pulling back until only the head of his cock remained inside, he pushed back in just as slowly, driving the warlock below him insane, making him writhe under him.

It would never have lasted, no matter how they might have wished to draw it out. When Merlin came, it was with a half-sob as heat spread between them, his muscles clenching unbearably tight around him, and Gwaine muffled a groan into his sweaty shoulder as he pounded into his tight heat and came, emptying himself inside of him.

They both lay silently, breathing each other’s air as they came down from their high. Sliding down to lie beside Merlin, Gwaine reached blindly behind him for something to clean them up. He found his own shirt and pulled it over, wiping them down before he chucked it away again.

Merlin murmured contentedly, crawling closer, wrapping himself along Gwaine’s side. His eyes flashed and the blanket slid up over them. His smile was soft and full of love as he looked up at Gwaine. Smiling back, Gwaine pressed a soft kiss to his lips, letting sleep drag him under as Merlin lay with his head nestled on his shoulder beneath his chin.

~*~

 _“Merlin.”_ He jerked from his trance-like state, looking around for the voice. Gwaine grumbled in his sleep, pulling him closer. _“Merlin!”_

Blinking owlishly, he finally recognized the owner of the voice. _“Kilgharrah?”_

 _“Yes, young warlock. It is time. You must come to me.”_ An image appeared in his head: the mouth of a cave and directions on how to get there. _“You must hurry, warlock. There is not much time and dawn approaches.”_ With that, his presence faded from his mind.

Easing himself gently from Gwaine’s embrace, he quickly went about dressing, pulling on his clothing from the night before. For the life of him, he couldn’t find his neckerchief. Sighing, he shrugged and pulled his boots on. Bending down, he pressed a kiss to Gwaine’s lips and slipped out.

All was quiet; the quiet before the storm. Most of the fires had burned low, only the sentry fires blazing an irregular pattern around their camp. Even the central tent where Arthur and Uther slept was dark, the two generals getting the sleep needed for tomorrow’s harrowing battle. Cyssan whickered softly as he saddled her, slipping the bridle over her head with familiar ease in the dark.

A whispered spell and he was gone from the camp, following a moonlit trail into the mountains. The trail was faint, barely a game track, and the path weaving through the trees and around boulders as they climbed higher.

The moon was just starting its descent towards the horizon when they topped the track and stood before the cave mouth. Conjuring a ball of light, he dismounted, leading Cyssan into the opening. He could make out supplies that had been stored in the cave, although they were almost decayed beyond recognition. Prepared torches were rotting in the back, and clay bowls and jugs lay broken on the ground, worn away by time and the elements. The smell of animals lingered in the air, but it was faint. Nothing had lived here for some time.

Unsaddling Cyssan, he left the horse to her own devices, walking with sure steps to the back of the cave where a concealing glamor still held even after all these years. He still had to close his eyes as he took a step through, mind unwilling to believe that the stone wall wasn’t real. When he opened them again, he found himself in a musty, damp tunnel that led down, deeper into the mountains.

A damp draft flowed over him from deeper into the tunnel, bringing with it more moisture and the sound of dripping water on rock. As he followed the tunnel further down, the sound grew nearer, as did the flow of air and the smell. It was only as he drew near the end of the tunnel that a new smell permeated the air: the smell of magic. Great magics had been worked down here, large enough that traces of it still lingered in the stone years later.

He trod cautiously as he took the last few steps into the cavern, his steps echoing hollowly around him. There, seated in the center, like he’d seen him so many times in the past in another cave, was the dragon.

He looked different, more aged, though how, Merlin couldn’t have pointed out. As he shifted, his wings fanned out, stirring the air and sending a other draft of the magic laden air around him.

“Kilgharrah,”Merline finally said, the name echoing and fading quickly into the darkness beyond.

~*~

 

As dawn approached, the sound of the camp rousing woke him from his slumber. The cot next to his was empty; Uther had already risen. Sighing heavily, he rolled, letting the motion carry him to his feet. The cool morning air was made him shiver, skin prickling to the dramatic change in temperature. Outside, shouts rose as more people stirred and readied for battle.

Changing quickly, he sat at their table and started to pick at his food, not really hungry, but knowing he needed at least something to be able to function today. His head jerked up as the tent flaps billowed open and Gwaine walked in, looking harried and slightly worried.

“Gwaine.” He nodded in acknowledgement as the knight came to a halt in front of his table. He motioned towards the unoccupied seat across from him, and Gwaine nodded and took it. “What can I do for you?” he asked, taking another cautious bite of his food.

“I was wondering if you’ve seen Merlin,” Gwaine finally asked after a moment’s hesitation.

“Hmm, not since last night when I sent him off to bed.” _‘Your bed, if I’m not mistaken.’_ The thought flowed through his mind, but he didn’t say it or let it show on his face. “Why?”

“It’s just that,” Gwaine sighed, running a hand through his hair in a distracted manner, “I’m probably just being a worrywart.”

Deciding to cut his knight some slack, he let a small smile creep onto his face. “Gwaine, I know.” The knight looked confused. Sighing, he elaborated, “about you and Merlin.”

A look of worry started to cross Gwaine’s face and he opened and closed his mouth for a moment before trying to talk. Arthur held his hand up to silence him. “I have already given my blessing to your relationship.” At this, Gwaine relaxed a little, no longer looking like a fish out of water. “But, if you do anything to hurt him, you will answer to me.” The knight nodded, expression serious.

“I swear, I will never do anything to harm him.” Arthur nodded in acceptance of his oath and Gwaine stood. As he rose, Arthur noticed the red cloth tied around his belt, the material slightly faded from its original crimson red to a softer hue: Merlin’s neckerchief. It made something in his chest loosen as the realization of what the two meant to each other showed through the gifts exchanged.

“I’m sure he is somewhere in the camp, checking on supplies. He will turn up. There is no need to worry.” Arthur knew for a fact that Merlin always turned up, no matter the odds.

Saluting his prince, Gwaine left, the tent flaps fluttering closed behind him. Squaring his shoulders, Arthur dug in with more purpose, readying himself for the day.

~*~

Merlin didn’t know what to make of the look of sadness on the dragon’s mobile features. It sent up alarms though, making him wary of what the dragon needed him for. Kilgharrah’s next words sent him into a panic. “It is time, young warlock. Time to face your true destiny.”

Something in him urged him to run, to get away from the cave, but when he turned around, the tunnel was gone. It was not a glamor but solid stone, rough and seemless as he ran frantic hands over it. Anger boiled under his skin and he spun, sending an accusing glare at Kilgharrah. “What is the meaning of this?”

“I am sorry, young warlock. There is so much you do not know. So much that depends on you and yet not you. It is time you learned the true meaning of your birth.” His heart gave a stutter.

“My birth? What do you mean ‘the true meaning’? What the hell are you talking about?”

 _.:He means the true reason you were created.:._ A voice echoed hollowly in his head, full of power. He gave a hoarse cry as heat surged inside him, and then a flash of light blinded his eyes as he fell back against the wall, sliding down to clutch at his head as the world started to spin dizzyingly.

As he finally got himself under control, he looked up and blanched at the figure standing before him. It was humanoid in shape, but its form was constantly shifting, the glowing light it was made of swirling and twisting until he had to look away or be sick. “Who…,” he swallowed heavily, “who are you?”

 _.:It will come to you.:._ it answered, light shifting to give it human features so that it could talk easier and now, its voice not only echoed in his head, but through the cavern and making Merlin’s ears and head throb. A sense of déjà vu was creeping over him as he stared longer at the creature, a nagging sense that they had met once before.

It shifted, hand moving slowly to point at its side, and a memory popped to the forefront of his mind: the feeling of hands, from two different moments, brushing his side, one giving pain, and the other pleasure. His hand rose to mimic the creature and as his hand touched his side, a name echoed through his head, along with a flood of forgotten memories. “Emrys,” he choked out through a tight throat as he relived his panic from only a few months prior.

~*~

“Arthur.” He looked up as Gwaine barged in again. The servant helping him into his armor finished the last strap and Arthur dismissed him, waiting for the man to leave before he let Gwaine continue.

“What is it?” He picked up his sword and buckled it on.

“I can’t find him.” He looked up at the worried note in the knight’s voice. Gwaine went on, “I’ve looked throughout the camp, asked people. No one has seen him since last night. Not even Gaius, who was expecting Merlin to come help him with sorting their supplies. And Arthur,” he paused, looking his prince in the eye, “his horse is gone.”

Arthur’s hand tightened on the hilt of his sword. “That is no reason to worry. There could be dozens of reasons why he is not in camp. He could have…”

Gwaine cut him off. “You know as well as I do what Morgana is like. She could have taken him.” He was pacing now, shoulders a tense line of muscle as his worry mounted. “If he was taken, we’ve no hope. She’ll find out he’s-,” he never finished his sentence.

“No.” Arthur cut in smoothly, stopping his last few words. Gwaine looked at him puzzled. He cleared his throat self-consciously. “I know that there are some… _things_ that Merlin has not told me yet.”

“You know,” he accused the prince.

“Only a working theory.” He amended, “I know that he has secrets that can be dangerous to him and others, but I want him to tell me himself. Until then, you will not breathe another word of why it would be a very bad idea if Morgana got her hands on him.”

“I…understand, but that still does not help us fix the current problem of his whereabouts,” Gwaine told his prince, starting his pacing again.

“There is nothing to be done.” Gwaine stopped dead in his tracks, turning to look incredulously at Arthur. “I know that you are worried, as am I, but I need you here and now. I can’t have you distracted by worry. That will only get you and others killed. Can I count on you to put your worry aside or do I have to leave you here?” Arthur asked, the king in him shining through in that moment.

“No, sire. I will do my duty, as I swore on the day you knighted me,” Gwaine finally bit out, features smoothing.

Arthur nodded and let his expression soften into a look of sympathy. “I understand what you are going through. But I have known Merlin longer than you have and I can tell you one definite thing: He will show up. He always does, no matter the odds.”

~*~

 _.:Yes, young one. It is I.:._ The being nodded at him.

“I…I don’t understand,” he finally said as silence fell between the three of them.

 _.:That is understandable. It is too much to tell with accuracy and detail. I will show you instead, how all this began.:._ He flinched at another flash of light, and when he opened his eyes he was still in the cave.

Except he was floating, swathed in shadow as he stared down where they had once stood. As he watched, light flickered in the tunnel he had entered through and a man stepped forward, dark cloak billowing around him as another draft blew through the cave and the flames on his torch flickered, casting shadows along the wall. It took him a moment to realize who he was seeing and he could only stare paralyzed as his father, Balinor, the Dragonlord, stepped forward into the cave.

 _“Dragon!”_ his voice echoed and rebounded, repeating again and again until the last echoes faded back into silence again. The silence was soon shattered though as something large pressed down against the air, forcing it down with each large wing stroke, raising a wind in the recently still cavern.

Balinor stared up as Kilgharrah flew down to meet the Dragonlord. Merlin stared in wonder at this younger version of his father. At this time, he had no beard, and though his face was drawn in worry, it was not creased with the lines of age and grief that would soon adorn it.

 _“What news, Dragonlord?”_ Kilgharrah asked, voice booming in the silence, echoing off the walls of stone that encased them.

 _“It was as was predicted. Uther made a pact with Nimueh for an heir. Ygraine will die in childbirth in a week’s time.”_ Merlin started at the mention of Arthur’s mother.

 _“Ahh, then the Seer was right.”_ The scaled creature’s demeanor changed, seeming to droop under a heavy burden. _“This price for an uncertain future seems to be too much.”_

 _“I am sorry. There was nothing I can do.”_

 _“It was not your fault, my friend. We all have our time, even I. We must prepare for the future. The Seer said that Uther’s son was the one who would bring about the golden age, but the future can be changed so easily. We must create a failsafe so that it will happen.”_

 _“You can’t mean…”_

 _“Yes, Dragonlord, it was time. We have a week until the end of such peaceful times. There is no more time to be indecisive. We must act now.”_ Kilgharrah straightened, looking down at his father.

Balinor nodded, looking resigned. _“You are right. Tell me what I must do.”_

 _“There is a ritual, to summon the Old One, the one who came before the first dawn and will only leave upon the last sunset. He is the only one who can help us now. He is the only one that fate will listen to.”_

Balinor stepped forward and from where Merlin floated, he could see the weariness of the burden of his knowledge. This was the moment when the lines had started to form on his face, lines of grief and desolation. _“I have heard of such a ritual, but never performed it. It is said to require a tremendous amount of magic. And even then, once we summon him, we still need a vessel for him to reside in.”_

 _“That is true. And he will have one. We will only perform the first half of the ritual, the one that will summon him. He is not needed now, not yet.”_ The dragon lowered his head closer to his friend.

 _“There is a way to create a vessel for him. You will become a temporary vessel, to carry him. You must impregnate a woman, and as the child forms in her body, so shall he bind himself to the child. The child, when born, will have no soul with which to fight him off, and he shall have a human body until he has no need of it.”_ Merlin’s ears were buzzing and he shook his head, trying to rid himself of the words that had condemned him.

 _“Are you sure this will work? There is too much at stake, and should it go wrong, there will be nothing to guarantee that Uther’s child will live long enough to complete his destiny.”_ Balinor was pacing now, running agitated hands through his longish hair.

 _“There is little choice. We must act now before it is too late.”_ The dragon stood, stretching out his wings. _“It will take me time to gather enough magic to summon him. Return here the day of the prince’s birth. I will be ready by then.”_ With a mighty flap of his wings, Kilgharrah was gone, flying away into the shadowed vaulting ceiling of the cave.

There was a moment of disorienting blackness as the scene changed, and then the two were back, the room full of burning candles, incense smoke cloying the air and diffusing the glow of the candlelight. It must have been the end of the ritual, for their voices rose as one booming voice, distorted beyond understanding and the candles flared and went out.

In the darkness, a new light appeared, just a small speck that steadily grew, branching out until the form of Emrys stood in their midst, emanating irritation. _.:Why have I been summoned from Avalon?:._ His voice boomed out, echoing around them and causing dust and debris to rain down on them.

 _“We summoned you for a cause, Old One. The balance is soon to be threatened. Uther’s wife will die in childbirth this night, sacrificed with unsuspecting magic to give the king a son. The Seer has foretold a time of great suffering and death as Uther takes his grief and anger out on the magic he thought he could control. His son will be the one to right this, but he will need protection from those who will wish to kill him for his father’s deeds. Until he is made king and restores magic to its rightful place, fate will be uncertain. We ask that you accept a human body so that you may guide fate and allow the boy to complete his destiny.”_

 _.:I will require a vessel if I am to remain in this realm.:._

 _“I will act as temporary vessel until the time is right for you to bind with your true vessel.”_ Balinor stepped forward, staring in awe at the great being that stood before him.

 _.:An unborn child.:._ he said aloud, reading the Dragonlord’s thoughts.

 _“Yes. I will impregnate a woman to carry the vessel.”_

 _.:The bargain is struck.:._ He flared brightly and flowed through the air to disappear into Balinor’s body. For a second, Balinor stood frozen, unsure what to do, and then he moved, letting out a breath that he must have been holding in.

The cave faded to black again and then Merlin was back in his own body, huddled on the floor, sobbing for breath as hot tears rolled down his face. “That…that can’t be right. Balinor, my _father_ , would not have done that. He would not have done that to my mother.”

 _.:It is the truth, young one. You were created to become my vessel. Only, something went wrong in the moment I bonded myself to your human body. My magic was sapped and I was too weak to fight the soul growing inside you as you grew in your mother’s body. In a last effort to protect your body and myself, I created a barrier between us, so that I would not kill you. I have waited all this time for my magic to become strong enough. That time is now, when I am most needed.:._

Merlin struggled back to his feet, shaking and glaring at the two. “What happens to me?” he demanded, pressing against the wall of the cave. “What about what I want?”

For a second, the look of anguish on Emrys’s face stopped his breath, and then realization dawned on him. “No,” he croaked out, throat tight. “No…I won’t…I REFUSE!” he yelled at them.

 _.:You have no choice in the matter. It has already begun.:._ Emrys replied somberly. Merlin shook his head again. _.:You were never meant to be, Merlin. Your soul was never meant to grow and yet it did. You are a mishap of magic and fate, created with borrowed magic and time. But your time has run its course; the magic sustaining your soul is running out. I’m sure you have noticed? The lapses in time, strange points of your day that you cannot remember and account for. You are fading and you cannot stop it.:._

Merlin sank slowly to his knees, hands shaking as his thought went back to those moments, trying to place when they first started to happen. The link sprang up, so obvious now that he saw it from a new angle. “You, you’re the reason this is happening. This only started to happen after you saved me from the Attor’s venom. It only started when I allowed you to take control.”

 _.:There have been moments when I have emerged before. When the magic you required went beyond what you had and thus forced me to surface. But yes, that point was when it truly started. The moment you crossed the barrier. A weakness was created in the barrier that has only grown bigger as time passed.:._ At his words, the barrier formed between them and he could see it, the hole that had taken shape in the middle of it, edges glowing bright gold.

“I…I don’t want to die. There’s so much I wanted to do, have yet to do.” He could feel his eyes growing wet and didn’t care, letting the tears flow. “I never told Arthur. Told him about my magic.” More tears flowed as he realized something. “Gwaine, he’ll never know what happened, my mother, Gaius, Arthur. They’ll never know what happened to me.”

He jumped as golden hands shoved something before him. _.:If you wish, you may write a final letter to them. I will deliver it to them, so that they may know of the bravery and strength you showed in doing this.:._

He took the parchment, ink, and quill from the being and turned away. The next twenty minutes were silent as he wrote to those he loved the most and who would grieve for him when he was gone. Finished, he sealed them up and set them aside.

[ ](http://pics.livejournal.com/reiya_wakayama/pic/0000fe8e/)

Squaring his shoulders, he turned to face them, eyes red but dry. “So what happens now? How long do I have?”

 _.:It is up to you, young one, when you choose to end this.:._

He was silent as he thought. Finally, he looked back at Emrys. “Do you swear to protect Arthur?” he finally asked. Emrys nodded. “Will it hurt?” He asked in a small voice.

 _.:I do not know. This has never happened before. I hope it will not. Do not worry, though, for you will be going to Avalon, where I believe someone has been waiting to see you again.:._

“Freya?” he asked and Emrys nodded again. Sucking in a steadying breath, Merlin straightened. “I’m ready.”

There was a sound like fabric tearing, and then his heart began to burn, a fire inside him eating away from the inside out. He let out a pained gasp as it crawled slowly along his veins and nerves, leaving fire and agony in its wake. He was dying, disappearing and there wasn’t anything he could do. He fought though, his self-preservation instincts kicking in as he fought to hold onto life. It was useless though. Emrys’s power was too much to fight. He was like a pale flickering candle flame to the forest fire that was Emrys.

For a second he looked up and saw not Emrys, but Kilgharrah, his eyes weary and full of sorrow. _‘With your last breath, I will follow you, my kin. I will follow the last Dragonlord to Avalon where someday, I hope to gain penance for my deeds in this. You will not be alone in this, young warlock.’_

His voice faded out as the sound of flames crackled in his head, consuming him. With his last breath, he choked out one word, “Gwaine.” Then darkness swamped him and he was no more.

~*~

 

The cave was silent as Emrys stood, flexing the muscles in his new body. Merlin was gone, his soul consumed by the inferno that was Emrys’s magic. On the cave floor laid Kilgharrah, his chest still, his life force gone.

Looking sadly at the once-great dragon, he bent to pick up the letters that Merlin had written. He had one last promise to keep before he could complete his purpose, the reason he had been summoned here. Giving the cave one last sad look, he was gone in a flash of light.


	6. Part 5

**_ Part 5. _ **

Arthur stared at the force spread out before them. Morgana had been busy since they had last seen her. But unlike his army, hers were a pale comparison. Many were village men; raised to farm, and not fight. Most held crude weapons, and few even had armor. He knew they didn’t need it though. With magic on their side, any untrained farmer could kill a dozen knights with one word.

There was a ripple of unease through his ranks as Morgana rode to the forefront of her army, his men recognizing her and remembering the reign of terror she had held briefly over them. Arthur stared impassively at her, Uther next to him as their guards held position around them.

Glancing to the side, he watched Uther; waiting for some reaction to the woman he had loved as a daughter, who was his daughter. Uther held himself erect, face a blank mask as he stared at Morgana, but Arthur could see it, lurking in his eyes: pain for her betrayal, anger for what she was, and the insanity that both had created in him, lurking just beneath the surface.

Turning away, he faced back forward, keeping his half-sister in sight. _“So noble of you, Arthur,”_ her voice whispered in his mind, dripping with sarcasm like poison, leaving a taint behind when she withdrew.

~*~

As the tide of bodies lulled for a moment, he took a quick breath, surveying the battle. Uther was some yards behind him, surrounded by Percival, Elyan, and Leon, the three keeping his father alive as he fought.

He had been right about the fighting skills of Morgana’s men. They could barely hold their sword, let alone fight with them, and yet, his men kept falling just as much as the enemy did, brought down by spell after spell. Some had attacked at the very beginning with fire. Now, patches of field burned, filling the sky with black roiling smoke that choked lungs and made eyes water.

He wasn’t sure how the battle had started now. It was just a mass of bodies killing and being killed, moving in an ever flowing cycle around him. Gwaine and Lancelot stood at his back, the three of them holding their own.

Morgana had disappeared into the thick of the chaos and had yet to make an appearance, though he knew she still lived from the explosions that rose above the noise around them. And still he fought; sweat dripping into his eyes, muscles burning as lungs struggled for much-needed air in the smoke-filled battleground.

Lunging forward, he brought down another sorcerer before he could speak the spell meant for one of them. Pulling his sword from the body, he looked up and was met by poisonous blue eyes. Her red lips twisted into a cruel parody of a smile as she raised her hand, lips shaping the words to end his life.

For a second the world slowed as he watched her, waiting for her to strike. He blinked…and someone was standing in front of him, their dark blue cloak flowing in the breeze. He could still see Morgana, her eyes going wide as the spell was released from her hand and struck the man in the chest.

Tendrils of black energy seemed to crawl over his body, and then they faded, absorbed into his body. She took a step back, fear registering in her eyes as the man took a step forward. His hand raise and a gale of wind roared into life, screaming its anger as it blew both smoke and people away, sending all the combatants to the ground.

A hush fell over the battle field as others took notice of this new enemy. “Emrys,” someone whispered fervently, and the word spread among the Druids who fought with Morgana. Those who understood the word dropped to their knees, staring up in awe at this man who stood amongst them.

“Who-,” Morgana started in fury.

Emrys lifted his hand and her words were cut off, her voice stopped. “Silence. You willingly chose your path. You have no say in this.” The voice was deep, echoing with power that crackled through the air around him, like the moment before the storm.

Someone yelled, and then one of Arthur’s knights ran forward, brandishing his sword, taking a swing at the man. He ducked, leaning backwards as the sword went over his head. Something metal swung up from his neck, catching the light just as the sword passed over him. It caught on the sword, the chain broke.

There was a second where it held suspended in the air, and then it fell to the ground, landing at Arthur’s feet in the churned earth. A flash of light momentarily blinded them and when he looked up, blinking spots away, the knight was gone, and a charred patch on the earth was all that remained.

With a feeling of dread, he looked down, fearing the knowledge of what had fallen could mean. Still, he looked and something inside knotted horribly as he took in the silver pendent and golden ring that lay winking up at him from the dark soil. An image of the neck that these had hung from appeared in his eye.

With a sickening feeling of dread, Arthur forced himself to look up and see the truth in front of him. The man started to stand, his hood knocked back, revealing pale skin, soot-black locks and blazing golden eyes. Merlin stared back, face devoid of any emotion. There was a choked noise behind him as Gwaine saw his lover standing there in full view of Uther and Morgana.

Morgana gave a chocked cough as she tried to speak around the spell still on her. Her eyes bulged a little in surprise at the sight of Merlin in front of her, magic on full display for all to see. There would be no going back for him, even if they beat Morgana today. His father would see to that.

“Merlin?” Lancelot finally spoke up; voice heavy with sorrow at the decision Merlin had been forced into.

He turned, facing the three of them and the look of such sorrow on his face threw him for a moment. What had happened? He shook his head, “I’m…sorry. I am not Merlin. At least, not anymore.”

“What are you talking about, of course you’re Merlin,” Gwaine insisted, pushing forward closer to his lover.

“I am Emrys. I was summoned by Balinor and Kilgharrah, the last dragon, to bring this conflict to an end; to right the balance. Merlin…was my vessel, the human body to hold me in this world until such a time that I was needed. Do not hate him. He did not know until recently as I have been dormant all his life.”

There was silence as those closest listened to this being of magic. “And Merlin?” Gwaine choked out, his grip on his sword shaking, the knuckles white with the force of his grip.

Sorrowful eyes looked back at the knight and gave all the confirmation needed, though he still answered him, “I’m sorry. He has gone to Avalon.”

There was a shout from behind them, and all three turned to see Uther striding over, face livid with rage. “You! A sorcerer all this time. Arthur, kill him, before he can do any more damage to our kingdom.”

Emrys turned, eyes blazing brighter as he faced Uther, shoulders straightening and his jaw firming in preparation for the oncoming conflict. “Uther Pendragon!” His voice boomed; people and horses shouting in fright as it rolled like thunder through the two armies. “I stand here your accuser and judge for the crimes you have committed in the name of your so-call righteous purge. Will you face these accusations?”

“And by what right do you have this power?” Uther growled out; face red and eyes burning embers of hatred.

“By right of the office of High Priest of the Old Religion, won by trial by combat to the death with the last High Priestess Nimueh,” he rumbled again, power crackling around him as a breeze fingered the blue material on his thin shoulders.

Uther visibly paled at his words, mouth opening but no noise coming out. Finally he got himself under control, “You couldn’t have?”

“I have done so in repayment for her meddling in the balance of the old religion when she tried to cheat me by taking Merlin’s mother’s life instead of my own to save your own blood relation.” At this, he looked at Arthur, Uther following his gaze. “She had grown bitter and angry; her judgment biased, and was thus unfit to wear the robes of office. Now will you stand trial?”

To everyone’s surprise, he nodded, still pale. “As is your right, any who wish to defend you may come forth to speak.” He paused to wait for any to step forward. None did. Nodding, he continued, “There is one who has waited for this moment to speak for you. She has waited a long time.”

Uther’s eyes grew large as Emrys stood back and a door of light appeared next to him. Turning to it, he held out a hand, as if helping a lady down some steps. A pale hand appeared first, followed by the rest of her, until at last, Ygraine Pendragon stood amongst them. “My lady, be aware that your time here is limited.”

“Thank you, Emrys. I know. This will not take long.” He let her hand go and she took a step forward. She smiled at her husband. “My dear, Uther.” She seemed to glow with love.

“This is trickery. Some sort of illusion or glamor to trick me,” he said; panic clear as he looked between Emrys and Ygraine.

“There are no lies or tricks in a trial. All is truth, seen through clear eyes. She has expressed a desire to speak for you and to you. Let her speak, for her time here is short.” She smiled at Emrys and looked back at her husband.

“He speaks the truth, Uther. I am real. There is so much to say. I understand why you acted so, after my death. You blamed yourself and magic for my death. There are facts that you do not know. Nimueh came to me, a week before Arthur was born, and told me of a prophecy, of the great destiny that awaited our son. She told me to stop this, that it would be my death and of hundreds of others. I was selfish, I know, but I so wanted our son. I knew he would be such a great king. I took the risk and hoped that you would not do what you did.”

She turned to Emrys. “Old One, my husband is not the one to blame here. He reacted out of grief and anguish against something that he couldn’t control. He didn’t know of my choice or my selfishness. If anything, I am to blame. I just wanted a child so badly that I willingly condemned others to death. Please, punish me in his stead.”

“Are there any who would object to Lady Ygraine’s confession?”

“NO!” Uther yelled out, striding forward. “You will not do this, my love.” He wrapped himself around her, drawing her close as he shook. They continued to speak, but none could hear as they conversed softly.

Finally, they pulled apart reluctantly; Uther looking resigned, but prepared for the worst. “I willingly place myself at your mercy to spare my wife. I await my punishment,” he bit out, glaring at Emrys.

“So be it. Upon your last breath, you will be exiled from Avalon, kept from your wife and eternal rest for the same length of time as your Purge lasted. In that time, you will be approached by each sorcerer you ever killed, directly or indirectly. Your task will be to get forgiveness from just one of them. If you are able to accomplish this, you may enter Avalon. If you are unable to do so, than you will never be allowed in and will wander the void between for all eternity.”

A soft breeze flowed through the field, bringing the scent of growing things with them. Ygraine embraced Uther one last time, bestowing a kiss on him before walking back over to Emrys. She stopped before Arthur. “My son.”

“Mother,” he choked out.

“I know that we have so little time, but I want you to know that I love you. Have and always will love you. I am so proud of you and know you will become the king you are meant to be.” She leaned forward to wrap her arms around him. Arthur returned the embrace, inhaling her scent and imprinting it to memory. She pulled back a little. “Do not hate Emrys. His hands were tied the moment he was summoned and he could not have stopped what has happened any more than Merlin could have.”

“My lady, it is time.” She pulled away and walked over to Emrys.

“I’m so sorry, Emrys,” she whispered hoarsely.

“It is not your fault. This was foretold long before now and was always meant to happen.”

“I will see you soon.” She cupped his cheek and smiled sadly up at him. Taking her hand from his face, he helped her back into the doorway of light, and then it was gone, the world a little darker now.

“My purpose has been fulfilled and I declare this war at an end. By right as High Priest of the Old Religion, I annul all laws on the restriction of magic. On this day, the balance is righted.”

There was a screech of rage behind them. They turned in time to see Morgana run forward, sword sliding neatly into Emrys, pressing through and out the back. The world was silent as he stood there, blinking owlishly in surprise, staring down at the sword and the red spreading from its point of contact.

Sighing, he lifted a hand, bushing it over her face. “See clearly, with unclouded eyes, Seer and learn the truth of your past.” Morgana blinked slowly and stepped back, the sword still clutched in her hand, drawing it from Emrys’s body slowly.

He gave a pained gasp, falling to his knees. Arthur was there before anyone could move. “Mer-Emrys, hang on. You’ve got to hang on.”

“I didn’t…I mean, I never…”

Emrys smiled up at Morgana as blood flowed over his lips and down his chin. “By right of combat, you now bear the title of High Priestess. I hope you will do better than your predecessor.” She nodded shakily, tears in her eyes, but lips set in a firm line.

“Emrys, you need to stay with us.” Gwaine ordered, crouching next to the man, Lancelot next to him and the rest of the knights behind them.

“I can’t. This was always meant to happen. I must return to Avalon. I am glad though, to be able to experience your friendships through Merlin. I will remember it always.” He was gone then, eyes fading back to blue as the magic in him drained away. All around them, the battlefield was silent in respect for the great being that had left their world.

~*~

Arthur walked lifelessly into his tent. He was alone; Uther talking with Gaius as he patched up those hurt in the battle. He was grateful for this though, when he saw the folded parchment resting on his cot, stark against the rich red of his blanket.

Lifting it with shaking hands, he read his name written in a scrawled hand. Opening it a smaller piece fell out. Setting it aside, he read:

_Dear Arthur,_

_I know you must be confused and angry and sad and so many other things that can’t be named. All I can say is, I’m sorry. I wish things could have ended differently, that I could be here next to you and not this letter, but this is all I have the time for, for soon I will be gone from this world._

_I just wish to say, please don’t hate Emrys for his role in this. He had no choice in this. If you must blame someone, blame my father and Kilgharrah for the choice they made. I have tried and yet, I know if they hadn’t, I wouldn’t have been here and been able to experience life in Camelot for as long as I did._

_I told you years ago that I would serve you until the day I died, and I have. I am honored to have known you and to have called you friend. All I said then still stands. Try not to be too much of a prat. Listen to people. That will be your biggest strength, if you just listen to those around you. You can’t do everything and there will always be someone who knows more about something than you. They can help when you need it. And learn to think before leaping. Too many times I have had to save your backside because you jumped into action before thinking things through. I won’t be around to save you anymore, so you must learn to look out for yourself. I’m sure the others will help._

_I love you and will be waiting for you on the day it is your turn to come here. Not too soon, or I’ll have to yell at you for being the idiot you so love calling me. Look after Gwaine for me. I know this will hurt him deeply and he will pretend to be unaffected. I’m sorry. I hope to see you again, even in Avalon._

_I have written a letter to Gaius. Could you please give it to him for me? He deserves to know as well, the truth behind all of this._

_Your Loyal Servant and Friend,_

_Merlin_

Arthur stared down at the parchment in his hand as he sat on his cot. He jumped when a drop of water fell on it. With a jerk, he realized he was crying, Wiping his eyes hastily, he rolled the parchment up and stowed it away into the small chest he had brought with him, locking it away with the miniature painting of his mother and her wedding ring. Picking up Gaius’s letter, he went to go deliver it to the physician.

~*~

Gwaine stared down at the parchment clutched in his trembling hands, afraid and unwilling to open it just yet. Night had since fallen and the campfires blazed around them. Only a candle lit the inside of the tent he shared with Merlin and it pained him to see Merlin’s things still resting inside, as if at any moment, Merlin would poke his head through the tent flaps with a smile and call his name.

Reaching up, he felt the pendent and ring through the thin material of his shirt. He knew he would never give them to anyone else. They would remain with him until his last days on earth and they would be buried with him.

Merlin was already buried, his body resting in the newly churned earth. Gwaine and the rest of them had stood silently as he was laid to rest beneath a gray sky, wrapped in a cloak of crimson, the golden Camelot dragon shining weakly in what little light got through the clouds as the sun started to sink.

Sighing, he reached for his belt, intending to remove it to sit more comfortably. Cloth met his fingers and he looked down. Merlin’s neckerchief was still tied around his sword sheath from where he’d put it this morning ‒ god, last night! ‒ when he had found it somehow stuffed under his pillow. He hadn’t known then that Merlin had already left.

Fingering it, he felt something clench in his chest. Taking a shaky breath, he unbuckled his belt and set it aside and picked up the letter again. Willing himself to do it, he unfolded the creased parchment, barely glancing at his name scrawled on the front. Another piece of parchment fell out onto his lap. The name Hunith was written across it. Taking a breath, he started to read:

_Gwaine,_

_This is so hard. There is so much I wish to say and express yet I can’t seem to find the words. You have been everything to me these past few months, even before we started this path we were on. Yet it appears we must bring it to an end._

_I never wanted this to happen, for you to learn of things this way. By the time you read this, events will have already been set in motion that cannot be undone and I will no longer be here though it seems my body will. I know that my father and Kilgharrah made a difficult choice and that they never expected for events to turn out like this, but even so, I still cannot bring myself to forgive them._

_I have faced so many similar choices in my time in Camelot and all have weighed heavily no matter the outcome. But I wish to say one thing: do not hate Emrys for his role in this. He had as much choice as I did, and I know he never wished for it to end this way. I have seen the pain he took in this and though I never wished for things to end like this, I will do it with all the dignity and honor I have._

_I want you to know I will always love you and I will wait for you in Avalon. There will always be a place in my heart for you should we meet again under any circumstances. Do not mourn me too long, for it always hurts me to see you suffer. Live a long and happy life and if you so wish, share it with someone who can make you as happy as you did me and I hope, I did you._

_Please remember me fondly and if you would, keep an eye on Arthur. He will become a great king, but he will need help. Since I can no longer be there, it is up to you and the others to make sure he doesn’t kill himself from being an idiot and prat._

_I have enclosed a letter to my mother and ask that you convey it to her as a last favor to me. I know it will break her heart, but I wish her to know of what befell me even if I cannot be there to comfort her._

_Always watching over you and in your heart,_

_Merlin_

Letting the tears flow freely, Gwaine sat there, long into the night until at last the candle burned out, taking with it his strength, and sleep finally claimed him.

~*~

Two days later found Gwaine pulling his horse up in front of a familiar cottage. Hunith stepped out, wiping her hands on her skirt as she squinted up through the sunlight to see his face. He didn’t need to say anything as the grief on his face conveyed everything. He caught her in time as she collapsed, cries of anguish muffled into his shoulder as he held her up.

He stayed only briefly, knowing that she wished to be alone amongst the memories that populated the hut, memories that he could not share with her. That hurt most, that his memories with Merlin were so few and cut short.

Slowing his horse down, he pulled up before the edge of the forest at the foot of the mountains. Tying the horse to a tree, he walked some distance, towards a small stone marker. Engraved into it was his name, the earth was smooth. Already plants were growing back over it. Soon, nothing would be left but a stone marker to show of the man who willingly gave his life to stop a war from destroying both sides.

That night, he slept under the stars and dreamed of Merlin. He smiled at Gwaine and spoke, though Gwaine could hear nothing of what he said. Just as he awoke, he heard his voice, soft as a whisper in his ear, _“I wish to be with Gwaine.”_ He awoke with tears streaming down his face.

Stopping one last time at the marker, he stared in awe at the thing that now stood there. The stone was still there, but behind it, a great towering oak shaded it. He brushed a hand over it and for a second, he thought he could feel Merlin again.

Stepping back, he mounted again and left, not looking back. But afterwards, every time he rode by, he stopped to stare at the tree and run a hand over its gnarled bark. He camped under it; no matter how close to Camelot he was or how much daylight was left, and each time, he could feel Merlin, as if briefly, he had the man of his heart back.

~*~

Thunder rolled overhead and lightening flashed in a blaze of glory. Gwaine was nearing Merlin’s grave, and it was with some dismay that he realized he would not be able to stay under the tree this night, not with the storm. Forcing his horse forward, he steered it to go by anyway. He needed to at least touch its trunk before he left.

A year had already gone by since that fateful day. Arthur reigned as king now, Uther having died a month after, seeming to have just let go his grip on life. No one was surprised, and if he ever got his forgiveness, no one knew.

He was nearing the great oak when a huge bolt of lightning touched down up ahead, resounding with an almighty crack and boom of thunder as something exploded and caught fire that was soon put out with the force of the rain coming down. He felt his heart plummet as his horse drew near once she stopped rearing in fright.

His tree was a blackened ruin, wood charred around the edges where it had split straight down the center, the two upper halves bowing under their own weight. The smell of burnt wood and sap assaulted his nose as he drew near and his horse, Cyssan, balked, unwilling to approach.

Dismounting, he strode closer, uncaring of the storm raging overhead as he mourned the loss of his precious tree, his last link to Merlin. Lightning flashed overhead again and illuminated the inside, showing something pale white against the black, charred remains of the heartwood of the tree.

[ ](http://pics.livejournal.com/reiya_wakayama/pic/0000e11x/)

Stepping even closer, Gwaine breathed more of the smoke, trying to see what was inside. More lightning and his heart skipped a beat as it revealed a pale shoulder that connected to an even paler neck and face, black locks blending into the shadows and burnt wood.

Pulling his knife from his sheath, he started to hack at the tree with a determined frenzy, uncaring as wood splinters buried themselves into his flesh, ripping away chunks of bark and wood to get to the inner part of the tree. With a great groan, the tree finished splitting, both sides falling away, and he dropped the knife to lurch forward as the body inside started to fall forward.

He stared down at the body, disbelieving what he saw and held, feeling its warmth, even though the rain had Gwaine chilled to the bone. He could barely croak out a name. “Merlin.” The sound was drowned out in a roll of thunder. He called again louder, shaking him a little.

A soft groan, music to his ears, announced Merlin’s return to consciousness. “Merlin!” he called again. Gwaine’s heart soared when beautiful blue eyes opened once again to stare up at him.

“Gwaine?” Merlin asked softly.

“Yes, god yes! Please tell me I’m not dreaming.” Gwaine begged, tears mixing with the rain water, a sob wanting to tear itself from his throat.

“You’re not. It’s all real. Emrys granted me one wish, though it took a year to complete. I’m alive and real and not leaving for a long time. I swear, I’m real.”

With a cry, Gwaine pulled him closer, shoulders hunched and heaving as Merlin wrapped his arms around him. Above them, head the storm raged, but neither noticed, too caught up in each other to care.

**End.**


End file.
